The Black Panther
by bored411
Summary: He was too close. My senses were in overdrive. My eyes were seeing red and flashbacks to the war and my time in Korea. Next thing I know, I was jumping up and pinning Sherlock to the floor in seconds with a switch blade at his throat...'Those jerks have done it now. They're gonna regret trying to kill me.' OCxSherlock
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah, I know. I'm putting another one up when I shouldn't be, but I really got hooked on BBC Sherlock and this just came tumbling out when I didn't feel like writing for my other fanfics. Sorry. But please review and tell me what you think! I would really like to know if it's okay and if I should continue it ^^**

* * *

A vibration came from my pocket and I pulled out my cell phone in a hurry, hoping that it was the person I was dying to hear back from about the flat I'm supposed to be renting. One look at the screen told me told me it wasn't and I scowled as I answered, just barely managing to keep my voice from betraying my disappointment.

"Yes, mother?"

"Thank goodness you picked up! I've been trying to get a hold of you for ages!"

"Yes, yes. I know, but I thought I told you that I was going to be in da Hellfire Caves? You should've known that there would be absolutely no reception in there."

"Well, how was I supposed to have known?!"

"Mum. Hellfire _Caves_. You know, as in _under ground_?"

"…"

"Nevermind. What did you wan' ta talk to me about?"

"Oh right! Won't you come home? You've been traveling ever since you left to that God awful place and even before then! I just want to see my daughter!"

I rolled my eyes as my mother went into hysterics on the phone and I continued walking towards my destination.

"Mother. I've already told you, I'll visit you on da holidays if I 'ave time. My job is very strenuous an' it's been difficult for me to even get time to myself let alone come visit you 'alfway across the world."

"I-I understand. Just be on your way then and leave you old mother to crochet all alone."

_Great. Now she's playing the guilt trip. My little white lie doesn't help either._

"Mum, don't be like that. Besides, you 'ave dad! Just call 'im back from work early or somethin'. You two need a night out anyway."

"You're right. I'll see if I can get that stubborn man home. The main problem is keeping him awake long enough to have a good time."

"There you go then. I'll talk to you later mum."

"Yes, yes. And try not to pick up too many accents in your travels. It's getting harder and harder to understand you."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

The dial tone was heard and I frowned at the phone. _That woman. She never warns me when she's going to hang up._ Shaking my head, I adjusted the large pack on my back and ignored the stares I was getting from the folk around me. Reaching in my other pocket, I pulled out my phone and began texting.

_Do u have the number 4 me yet?_

_-D_

Dodging a business man in a hurry, I stopped in an alleyway to get out of the crowded London streets.

_Sure do. It's-_

My friend gave me the number and I smiled when I punched in the numbers, an older sounding woman picking up on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Ah, yes. Is this a Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes it is. May I help you with something?"

"Actually, I was wonderin' about the ad you 'ave for flat 221C. Is it still available?"

"That it is, dear. Would you like to come by and see it?"

"That'll be great. I'll be there in…fifteen minutes."

"Lovely, dear. I'll see you then."

We both hung up and I began making my way over to the right street, getting directions occasionally when I thought I was off track. All the while, I watched the scenery and the people passing by; gauging their reactions to me and the people around them. It's an old habit that hasn't quite died off yet and I often find myself doing it in my spare time between jobs.

Finally, I caught sight of the flat and knocked on the door, waiting for Mrs. Hudson to answer. On the phone she sounded older, but I've long since learned not to trust such devices and normally stick to texting unless otherwise necessary. It's a good thing too, because when she did answer the door she looked quite a bit younger than I originally thought.

"Yes?"

_She's nervous. Her eyes are darting about as she looks me over and she's quite scared with what she sees. Better help her get over that if she's to be my landlady._

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson? I'm 'ere about 221C. I called and told you I'd be 'ere."

She seemed to ease up a bit when I smiled politely.

"Oh! Right, then. Come this way." As we walked, she began rambling about the flat even as she pulled out the keys and opened the door. "I hope you don't mind the damp. It's the main reason I think no one has considered renting and I'll be sure to call someone in to fix it if you do decide to rent."

"I assure you, I don't mind a thing 'bout a bit of dampness."

Stepping in and setting my large pack on the ground I walked around to get a good view of the flat. It wasn't bad either. It had a nice fireplace and hard wood floors that could do with a bit of polishing. The walls had already been stripped and were just a plain white base. The light from the window brightened up the room quite well also.

"I'm sorry about the walls, dear. I considered getting them repainted, but I thought the renter would rather choose the colors themselves."

"Not a problem."

Walking into the bedroom, I realized that it was just as empty as the main room with the same floors and walls, but the bathroom was nice. Most likely it had been redone recently, with white tiling and new fixtures. The kitchen had been redone as well; complete with refrigerator and microwave as well as wooden cabinets. I returned to the main room and smiled at Mrs. Hudson as she continued to speak in order to try and get me to rent the place. I would have interrupted her, but I hadn't had someone to talk to in a while and I thought it would be rude.

"I had the bathroom retiled and everything since the dampness really got in there. The kitchen's been redone as well and everything should work as far as the plumbing and electricity goes. The chimney may need a bit of cleaning though."

"Mrs. Hudson, I'll take it."

"And then there's the boys. Oh dear, I hope you don't mind them they're a bit odd. John's very nice though."

"Mrs. Hudson. I said I'd take it."

She stopped and stared at me as the words registered in her mind before exclaiming loudly as she clapped her hands together.

"Really?! That's great! Follow me and we'll sign the paperwork. When will you be moving in then?"

I followed her with a chuckle at her enthusiasm.

"Right away, if that's not a problem."

"Of course not, dear, and I don't believe I caught your name."

"Dani. Dani Evans. It's nice at meet you, Mrs. Hudson and I assure you I'm not as scary as I look."

I smiled again as further reassurance and she seemed to accept it as she took me into her kitchen to have me sign the paperwork.

I could see why she was a bit unsure about me when we first met, since most people are. I'm tall for a woman, about 5'10", and my masculine features fool enough people into thinking I'm not a woman at all. I've never liked long hair, too much trouble, so my auburn has always been cut pretty short. My blue-green eyes are sharp and I'm also fairly muscular due to my traveling and dealing with the wrong kinds of people. _It's a good thing I've never told my mom about what my job really is. After the way she reacted about Afghanistan who knows how she'll react knowing that I'm actually-_

"Dani?"

"Oh, sorry. I was daydreamin' again, wasn't I?"

She gave me a smile of her own and waved her hand in a nonchalant manner.

"It's okay dear. I was just asking if you wanted to meet the boys."

"I'm sure I'll meet them eventually. I was actually planning ta go get furniture right now so it can be delivered tomorrow."

"If that's what you want to do. Here's the keys, and could you pick me up some milk on the way? It seems Sherlock has stolen mine for another experiment."

It was an odd statement, but I agreed and she called out to me as I left her flat.

"Have a good time!"

I nodded and walked out the door, the smile dropping from my face with a sigh. _She's nice and all, but keeping that smile on is going to get to me after a while. At least I finally get to use my actual name. I've been going by so many that I nearly forgot which was my real one._ _Can't help it though, after what happened in Korea. Hopefully my life will be a bit calmer now._

* * *

A young Asian woman with long black hair stood alone in the store room of a museum to finish up some late work. Surrounding her are various statues and figures staring down at her as she makes her way to one of the cabinets, replacing the ancient tea set she had been using earlier that day for a demonstration.

_Bang!_

She looks around, frightened, but sees no one and continues her work.

_Bang!_

Now she knows she isn't alone and calls out in the darkness, hoping that it's just security.

"Is that security? I'm still in here. Just another couple of minutes."

She doesn't receive and answer and calls out again.

"Hello?"

Stepping away from the cabinets, she glanced around the room and noticed a large piece of cloth had been untied and was billowing out in a small breeze. Her hand reached up and pulled the cloth away. What she sees frightens her terribly and she steps back in shock.

* * *

The next day I had appropriately placed all my furniture where I wanted it as well as unpacked my bag and had taken out the few personal items I had. I placed a painted dingo skull on my mantle that I had gotten from a native on one of my travels to Australia. It was a beautiful black with gold designs and peasant feathers attached to the side and my most favorite possession at the moment.

_Thud!_

"What the-"

I turned away from the skull and stared up at the ceiling where the noise was coming from. The noises continued a while more before they suddenly stopped and I shrugged my shoulders. _None of my business what my neighbors are doing. Besides, I have more important things to deal with at the moment._ I looked around the room at the sheets spread in front of the fireplace and picked up the broom I had borrowed from Mrs. Hudson that was leaning against the wall. Pulling a pair of orange tinted goggles over my eyes and a black bandana over my nose and mouth, I crawled into the fireplace and shoved the broom upwards to knock off any loose soot.

I wasn't getting much, but I still couldn't see any light so I shoved the broom higher and must've hit a large piece since soot dropped down and covered me from head to toe. Coughing a bit, I looked up and saw that I had cleaned the majority of the fireplace and crawled back out. Scooping up the sheets, being careful not to spill soot anyplace, I put them in a black trash bag and grabbed the broom, pulling my bandana down around my neck and my goggles up on top of my head. Walking out, I knocked to return Mrs. Hudson's broom and she looked at me like I was deranged.

"Dani! What happened to you?!"

"Just cleaning out the fireplace, Mrs. Hudson. Here's your broom back."

She took the broom and shook her head at me.

"You could've just hired someone, Dani. No need to get yourself all filthy."

"Mrs. Hudson. Why waste money on somethin' you can do yourself? I'll clean myself up after I take out the trash. I'll even do my own laundry ta make it up to you."

"If you insist."

She shook her head again and returned to her flat as I finished dropping the bag off in the dumpster. Heading back inside, I very nearly bumped into someone. He was about the same age as me with sandy blonde hair that was neatly cut and he had a nice stance. _Very confident, stiff, but also tired. Army man maybe._

"Oh, I'm really sorry about that. I should be watching where I'm going…What happened to you?"

"I was cleanin' out my chimney. Saves money ta do it myself, and I should be da one apologizing. Not you."

He nodded once and looked of to the side for a second before turning back and sticking his hand out.

"I'm John Watson by the way. I don't think we've met."

"Dani Evans, and no we 'aven't I just moved into 221C yesterday."

"Well that explains the movers I saw earlier."

"I have a question for you, John."

"Yeah?"

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

The look on his face was priceless as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. I normally don't corner people like that with what I observe, but I should get to know my neighbors, right? John opened his mouth to say something, when my phone went off telling me I had a text. Looking at the screen, I rolled my eyes.

_Found a job 4 u D. Starts in 1 hour. Big pay. Different name: Elliot Stanford. Young ex-thief 4 hire. Testing security._

_-N_

_Of course he just gives me an hour and he sign me up under a different identity again. _Replacing my phone, I sighed to John.

"Sorry about this, but I really 'ave to go. I just got informed 'bout my job and I only got an hour. It was nice meeting you, John."

"R-Right."

I hurried off and quickly showered and disguised myself. Trading my soot covered muscle shirt and shorts for a v-neck, hoodie, and baggy jeans. I plopped a baseball cap over my head and put on some raggedy converse and sunglasses too. Rushing out the door, I called a cab and hurried off to the address.

* * *

John and Sherlock passed through glass spinning doors, the former with a curious and very confused face glancing around the large building that Sherlock called a bank.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank…"

_This is what he had in mind?_ John thought as they traveled up the escalator and to the front desk were they spoke with one of the secretaries. Unknowingly, a not-so-classy dressed figure was walking around staring at everything they could before heading towards the elevator that led to the upper levels; the same one the secretary had just sent Sherlock and John to. The hooded figure hopped in with them, them being the only other people in the lift, and Sherlock raised a brow at the curious figure.

_Hm…male, around the age of 28, thoroughly covered, possibly considering committing a crime and doesn't want his face seen. Has a slight tan, therefore he's been traveling. Shoes are well worn and old as is the jacket, yet he hasn't bought new ones so has little money. Stance is very guarded and untrusting, similar to that of a criminal and yet he's at a bank in broad daylight. Very curious._

Sherlock continued to watch the man while John fidgeted, unsure about the character they were sharing an elevator with. Suddenly, the person reached out and pushed the emergency stop button on the elevator and turned to them.

"Sorry 'bout this, chaps, but I need ta check somethin'."

He then clambered up through the elevator's emergency hatch and disappeared from view, leaving John standing below open mouthed and Sherlock gazing curiously through the hatch with slight surprise.

"Sherlock, don't you think we should call someone about this?"

"Hm." _East-end accent…_

"Sherlock! The man just climbed through into an elevator shaft in one of the most famous banks in London!"

Before John could get any further, a pair of feet dangled down from the hatch and the hooded figure jumped back down, shutting the hatch on his way and restarting the elevator like nothing happened. Sherlock also took up a nonchalant attitude and it seems only John was concerned about what just transpired.

The elevator 'dinged' and they all got out on the same floor, John and Sherlock heading towards an office and the mysterious figure heading towards the other end of the floor. Looking back over his shoulder, John watched the man for a moment.

"Sherlock, you can't tell me that wasn't odd, what happened in the elevator."

"Odd? No. Curious? Yes."

John swiveled his head around to get a look at Sherlock's grinning face and shook his head as they stepped into the office to wait on Sherlock's 'friend'.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"Sebastian." They shook hands like good friends. "How are you, buddy? How long has it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"

Sebastian took a glance over at John and Sherlock blankly introduced them.

"This is my friend, John Watson."

"Friend?"

"Colleague!" John quickly interrupted, also shaking hands with Sebastian. Heading towards his desk, Sebastian offered them drinks before sitting down while Sherlock immediately begins to deduce what he could about Sebastian.

"So you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot."

"Well, some."

"Flying all around the world. Twice in a month."

Sebastian laughs a bit and they have a small conversation about the days he spent back in university with Sherlock before getting straight back to business.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break in."

"Break in?" John asked, a bit surprised. "That wouldn't have anything to do with the guy we met in the elevator, would it?"

"Who?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but some shouting outside alerted them to something going on. Swiftly stand up and leaving the room, the three of them ventured onto the trading floor to find the hooded figure arguing with a couple of security guards.

"I told you, I'm only doin' my job! I was hired to check da security of the building by Sebastian!"

"Oh yeah? If you work here, then I'm the damn Queen of England!"

"That's the man we saw in the elevator!" John exclaimed.

The figure spotted Sebastian, Sherlock, and John and smirked to the burly security guard.

"Better get your wig an' dress on then 'cause 'ere comes the boss now."

Strolling up to the two of them, Sebastian waved his hand about with a frown.

"What exactly is going on here?"

The guard stiffened and pulled the hooded man in up next to him.

"Sir, I caught this man sneaking around the floor and thought he might be up to something. I was just about to remove him."

"No need. I hired him to check over our security since we just had a break in last night."

The guard glared at the thought-to-be thief and stormed off, not noticing the man sticking his tongue out and pulling the bottom of his right eyelid down in a mocking fashion. Spinning on his heel, the figure stuck out his hand to shake Sebastian's.

"Elliot Stanford. Nice at be of service. Oh, and I suggest you keep that guard. He's the first ta notice me, although he's a bit slow 'bout it; seeing how I can get all the way up 'ere before someone stopped me."

Sebastian nodded. "Right. I'll be sure to hire some more competent guards soon. In the mean time, I'd like you to meet Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They will also be helping with the break in."

Elliot stuffed his hands in his pockets, not bothering to shake hands with the two of them, for which Sherlock was slightly grateful for. Happy that everyone was now acquainted, Sebastian brought them all to the room where the break in happened.

"Sir William's Office. The bank's former chairman. His room has been left here, like a memorial of sorts. Someone broke in here late last night."

"What did they steal?" John asked.

"Nothing. Just left a little message. Although, Elliot, you only need to concern yourself with the room I assume?"

He nodded, but Sherlock could see his eyes darting about under his sunglasses. _He's observant and interested in more than just the room. Could be a possible asset in the future._

The office was well furnished with a wooden desk and a couple of black leather chairs. Most of the items were packed away in boxes on the floor but a few of the small statues still sat on the desk and nearby cabinet. Behind the desk, hung an oil painting of the former chairman that had been vandalized with bright yellow spray paint.

Moving back to Sebastian's office, he gestured to the computer on his desk which showed the footage of the chairman's office before the vandalism. The time in the bottom corner reading 11:33pm. He then flicks it to the next image a minute later where the paint shows up.

"Sixty seconds apart. So someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, and then left within a minute."

"How many ways into that office?"

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting."

He turned to leave the room, but Sherlock, John, and Elliot stayed where they were. Elliot with a smirk on his face.

"No need ta leave, Sebastian. I've already checked every possible way ta enter dat room."

Surprised, Sebastian said. "How? You need to swipe a card to even get access to that particular room."

Rolling his eyes, Elliot pulled out a key card with the picture of the burly security guard from earlier splattered across the front.

"Yet another security flaw. Ya need ta get these hooked on a chain instead of just clipped to a belt loop or put in a pocket."

Sebastian frowned and took the card from him while Sherlock smirked. Elliot caught the look and smirked a bit back, before grabbing a pen and a piece of paper off of Sebastian's desk. Swiftly and fluidly, Elliot drew out a quick sketch of the trading floor and the rooms surrounding it; eyes closed as he visualized the areas in his head.

"Okay. Now I'm assuming that all the doors are locked the moment the building is closed, yes?"

Sebastian nodded and began speaking.

"Every door is locked when this building closes. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

"That door didn't open last night?" Sherlock asked, although he already knew the answer.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay five figures to the both of you."

He pulled out two checks, one fore Sherlock and one for Elliot. Elliot took his and John took Sherlock's when he refused.

"I don't need incentives, Sebastian. Mr. Stanford, I believe you were going to say something."

"It's Elliot. Anyway, I've checked da vents which are all too small ta house a body, let alone one of this person's height-"

"Wait, how do you know how tall this person is?"

Elliot stopped and tilted his head, letting his glasses drop downward to give John a look that said 'are you seriously asking this?'.

"Nevermind him." Sherlock said. "Continue."

"The height of da paint shows the approximate height of da person, John. As I was saying, the person couldn't 'ave fit in da vents and I've checked for an entry point from da elevator shaft and there was none that 'ad been tampered with."

"So if he couldn't have gotten in from there, then where-"

Sebastian was cut off my Sherlock's groan and Elliot explained.

"No. He _could_ 'ave gotten in from there, but he _didn't_. It would've been 'ard to see the screws coving da entry points at night but none of them 'ad scratches so he didn't come in from da elevator shaft. The only other possible points of entry would be the door or…the window."

They all gave Elliot looks of disbelief except for Sherlock who actually considered it before rushing out of the room and back to the chairman's office. John and Sebastian exchanged glances before they headed downstairs while Elliot also went to the office to find Sherlock photographing the graffiti with his camera phone.

"It's Chinese, you know."

Sherlock didn't even flinch and soon turned to the window, opening it to stand on the small balcony outside. Elliot just sat back in the chairman's black leather chair, placing his feet on the desk and staring out onto the trading floor. He scowled when all he could see was a white pillar.

"Stupid pillar. Can't see a damn thing."

"What did you say?"

Elliot flinched slightly, but calmed down and responded.

"I said, 'Stupid pillar. Can't see a damn thing'."

His eyes widened and he rushed out of the room and began, what Elliot considered as, _dancing_. Getting up from the chair, Elliot stood just outside the door and leaned against the wall as Sherlock popped in and out of view between pillars. Suddenly, it smacked him in the face. _The pillars! They block the view of the graffiti from certain angles which means only certain people could've seen it! Gah, it's like army training all over again. Why didn't I see that?_

Finally, Sherlock seemed to have found what he was looking for and pulled a name tag out of it's sleeve, then left to meet up with John. Smirking, Elliot left and reported any security flaws to Sebastian before heading out to catch a taxi.

* * *

Popping back into my flat, I groaned and laid down on the cool wooden floor as my right leg ached dully. _Stupid thing. You'd think it wouldn't bother me at this point, but bullet wounds are pretty stubborn._ With a sigh I relaxed a bit and closed my eyes for a moment, only for them to snap open when my phone vibrated.

_can u do me a favor?_

_-N_

Texting back, I replied.

_depends. 1) is it interesting? 2) what do i get out of it?_

_-D_

I waited a few moments, gnashing my teeth at the skull on my mantle for no reason. It wasn't long before he replied back.

_it is pretty interesting. you'll hafta fill in for my contact in the Yard. forensic photography stuff. and I'll owe ya a favor l8r._

_-N_

It isn't often my informant, Nick, gives away favors so I accepted and he sent over a photo of the guy I was to be impersonating. It wouldn't be hard. I just had to switch out my contacts for the brown colored ones, give my hair a quick black dye, and change clothes _again_. Hurrying to the bathroom when he told me I had half an hour to be at a crime scene, I put on my disguise and hurried to the crime scene where I pulled out a fake badge to get in. I grabbed the camera out of the van nearby and put on the stupid blue scrubs with a pair gloves, climbing the stairs to the scene to begin taking pictures, when I spotted two people I didn't expect to see.

_John and Sherlock. I'm running into them all over the place aren't I?_ Walking straight past them without a second glance, I took photos of the body and room while simultaneously making my own guesses. _Shot once through the temple and has gun residue on his hand. Possible suicide but, judging by the room, he's left handed so…murder?_

"Do you think maybe he lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among these city boys."

"We don't know that it was suicide."

"Come on. The door was locked from the inside. You had to climb down the balcony."

_Oh? So that's how he got in. Nice choice, although it's slower than picking the lock._

"Been away…three days, judging by the laundry."

I glanced across the room at Sherlock as he picked through the dead man's suitcase before he stood and looked at John.

"Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it."

"Thanks. I'll take your word for it."

"Problem?"

"He just doesn't want to handle the dirty work, sir."

They both looked at me as I ignored the stares and photographed the corpses mouth, something black having been stuffed inside. They went back to their conversation.

"Those symbols at the bank. That graffiti. Why were they put there?"

"Some kind of code?"

"Obviously. Why were they painted? If you want to communicate why not use e-mail?"

"Well, maybe they weren't answering."

"Oh good. You follow."

"Mm, nope."

I snickered a bit as I photographed the gun on the side of the bed. John turned to me and growled.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop you know. Not like you have all the answers."

"Oh, but I do have some of them." This caught their attention. "He was being threatened, and not by the gas board, sir. Also, I suggest you take whatever it is out of the man's mouth. That might help you out a bit."

Sherlock looked back at the body and did just that, pulling out a black, folded up piece of paper. Stowing it away in an evidence bag, he looked up to question me, but someone came in and stole his attention.

"Ah, sergeant. We haven't met."

The suited man narrowed his eyes at Sherlock a bit and put his hands on his hips in an imposing manner.

"Yeah, I know who you are. And I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."

Sherlock shuffled a bit, obviously not used to this kind of treatment, but handed over the evidence bag containing the paper to the man.

"I phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?"

"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not sergeant. It's detective inspector…Dimmock."

The two had a staring contest of sorts before heading off to the lounge area of the apartment. I followed, not wanting to be left out of what I think would turn out to be quite the show.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide."

"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts."

_John, John, John. I'd expect you to know just a tad bit more than that. I learned my observation from the military. Surely you've picked up something._

"Wrong. It's one _possible _explanation of _some _of the facts. You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?"

"The wound's on the right side of his head."

"And?"

"Van Coon was left handed. It would cause quite a bit of contortion."

Sherlock began moving his left hand around to try and show how hard it would be to shoot yourself with your dominant hand on the non-dominant side of your head, but Dimmock didn't seem to get it.

"Left handed?"

"I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you'd have to do is look around this flat."

The inspector looked quite a bit unconvinced so I popped my head in for my own opinion.

"He's right, sir."

"And who are you?"

"Crime scene photographer. Name's Micheal Ross…but Van Coon _was _left handed. The note pad by the phone was on the left side as well as the butter knife in the kitchen, which had butter on the right side of the knife since he spreads with his left."

Sherlock, John, and Dimmock all looked surprised and I decided to stop there to see what Sherlock had discovered.

"Well, there you go. Should I expand on Mr. Ross's explanation?"

"No. I think he's covered it."

"Ah, I might as well. He's almost at the bottom of the list…Coffee table on the left hand side. Coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power socket, he used the ones on the left. It's highly unlikely that a left handed man would shoot himself on the right side of his head. Conclusion, someone broke in here and murdered him. The _only _explanation of _all_ the facts."

Still not convinced, Dimmock pushed the issue.

"But the gun-"

"He was _waiting_ for the killer. He'd been threatened."

"What?"

Sherlock walked away from the man and picked up his scarf, preparing to leave which left John to explain to Dimmock about the bank situation.

"Today at the bank. A warning."

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in."

_Ah, right. Nearly forgot about that piece of information._

"And the bullet?"

"Out the open window, sir."

"Aw, come on. What are the chances of that?"

I shrugged, not caring about the specifics. _The moron should be asking how the killer got in. Although, if the bullet went out the open window when the killer came in, doesn't that prove that the killer came in from the window?_ Smirking at the rush I was getting from this, I left the building, deposited my camera and blue scrubs in the back of the van, and began making my way away from the crime scene while texting Nick about something I noticed.

_job's done. tell me if u got any word bout the black lotus. i might pay them a visit soon._

_-D_

_oh, the panther's coming back?_

_-N_

_back with a vengeance._

_-D_

* * *

**So yeah, please review! I keep having this feeling that it's terrible, but i just won't know for sure without your help! ;)_  
_**


	2. Chapter 2

**If you're still reading this, then YAY! XD I really, really hope that this is good enough to keep readers and I'm super willing to hear any criticism you have on this be it good or bad. so please review so I know there are people out there actually reading. That way, I'll update this faster since i already have the first two episode mostly written up. ^^**

* * *

"I said could you pass me a pen."

John had just walked into the flat, lying his coat down on a nearby chair, when Sherlock had given his demands.

"What? When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Didn't notice I'd gone out then?"

John grabbed a pen and tossed it over to Sherlock who easily caught it. It was then that they heard shouting from downstairs.

"Mrs. Hudson! Have you seen my skull?!"

John looked over at Sherlock in shock.

"I thought I'd only hear that coming from you."

Sherlock didn't say anything even as someone knocked on the door of his flat. John then went over and answered it since Sherlock hadn't moved an inch.

"Yes? Oh! Dani, right?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't 'ave happened ta see a dingo skull would you? It's painted black and gold, has some peasant feathers attached to it."

"Let me check. You can come in if you want."

John came in with an auburn haired figure following behind him. Sherlock immediately went to work. _Unknown gender. Masculine features, but has the potential to be female. Seems to be in the late twenties. Short auburn hair, cut military style but it has grown out a bit. Discharged maybe a year ago due to bullet wound in right leg. Has an extremely slight limp, virtually unnoticeable, but it acts up at times. Bags under eyes, most likely caused by night terrors and memories, but his eyes are darting around. Where have I seen that before?_

"Sherlock!"

John shouted at him as he held up the skull in question.

"I said, how did this get in our flat?"

"Rüde!"

Sherlock rose a brow at the figure as she (he was almost certain now) took the skull from John with a scowl before turning to him and looking him up and down. John saw a fight brewing and quickly stepped in."Dani this is Sherlock. Sherlock, this is Dani Evans. He lives downstairs in 221C."

"She."

"What?"

John looked confused, but Dani just shrugged.

"You're the first to notice right away. Good job."

Now John looked even more confused and Dani just rolled her eyes.

"I'm just going to go put this back in my room and I'll be back since John seems to be in a frozen stupor."

She was gone and John just went and collapsed in a chair, mumbling to himself.

"Oh my God…I've been mistaking her for a guy…She must hate me…"

* * *

After replacing Rüde, I headed back to their flat, curious to see if Sherlock figured out that I've already met him twice. Walking back into the flat, I put on a neutral expression to see if I could fool Sherlock when he starts asking questions. I didn't bother sitting down and just stared at the news clippings he had stuck above the mantle.

"So where did you find Rüde?"

"Downstairs. Mrs. Hudson moved it when she went dusting."

I sighed. "I told her not to do that for me."

"Yes, well, she can be very stubborn sometimes and I apologize for, you know, mistaking you for a guy." John said.

"It's fine. I get it so often that I don't even bother correcting people anymore."

"You should sit down. I'm sure your leg is giving you a problem." Sherlock said calmly.

I mentally smiled. _There's one. He knows about my injury and most likely where it came from as well._ I walked over to the couch and sat down.

"It doesn't bother me much, but thank you anyway."

Silence followed and John quickly broke it. "Am I missing something?"

"Yes." Sherlock and I both said at the same time.

When John didn't get it, I pulled out my dog tags from under my shirt and tossed them over to him. He caught them easily and gasped in shock.

"Lieutenant?!"

"Yup. Got discharged after a bullet wound to the leg…Although, I'm curious, what else can you tell about me, Sherlock?"

"I wouldn't-"

"Don't worry about it, John. I know what he's capable of."

John sighed and mumble something like, "It's your funeral." before Sherlock told me everything he could.

"You're ex-military, as previously stated; discharged around a year ago. You're very observant and constantly on guard, telling me that whatever squad you were on was constantly under fire and you have nightmares of your time in the war which is shown by the bags under your eyes. You've never been married and have been traveling before and after the war but originally came form America, judging by your tan and the switching of accents.  
You're skinny but muscular, showing that you exercise regularly. You're a very private person and don't bother others unless they bother you or it's absolutely necessary. You prefer texting over talking on the phone and have a knack for languages. And there's a spot of black dye in your hair that you missed telling me that perhaps you dislike your hair color or someone asked you to change it for whatever reason.  
You are unconfident in your appearance and therefore dress more masculine, while also being unsociable by hiding your true self underneath your looks. Your shoulders also sag forward as though to hide what feminine features you do have. You're expecting a call from someone and you used to play the piano, but haven't settled down long enough to get one of your own. You also play a brass instrument of some sort. I'd say trombone seeing how your left shoulder drops down a bit more than you right and the calluses on your hand between your left index finger and thumb."

John was glancing back and forth between the two of us and I gave him a small smile.

"Amazing…You're better than I thought. Although you did miss a few things."

"Like?"

I settled back in the couch, closing my eyes and placing my hands behind my head. The suspense was killing him, I could tell. So, I opened my eyes and began.

"We all have secrets, Sherlock, but I guess I can tell you a few things. For one, I do _not_ exercise regularly but I am fit because I do most of my traveling on foot. I am a sociopath and only have a cell phone because my mother can't stand not calling me every few hours, which explains who I'm waiting for. I mostly play trombone, but I've dabbled with many different instruments. Violin, cello, bass, trumpet, tuba, flute, xylophone, and drums to name a few. There's a few other things, but I know you like a challenge, so I'll leave those things for you to figure out."

He smiled, the thought of having to figure me out giving him a thrill.

"Now that you've figured me out, for the most part, might I have a turn?"

He gave me an amused look and I closed my eyes in thought. _Let's see if this will give him the hint that we've already met._

"You're a detective that works alongside the Yard although you'd rather work alone. You probably think they are incompetent and dislike it when they don't listen to you."

"Unbelievably so." He interrupted.

"You too, are very observant and get a thrill from cases or anything that challenges you. It is very rare for you to let people get close to you, but you become very_…loyal_ to them once they do. You go off in your own little world when deeply thinking. You're ingenuitive and you like John, but dislike it when he doesn't _think _sometimes. You only appear to take only the cases that are interesting to you and you have friends in high places. Although, I suppose 'friends' is the wrong word seeing how you're a more extreme sociopath. You highly dislike physical contact and you hate not knowing something. Oh, and you don't need incentives."

"How do you know that?"

I sighed to myself watching as Sherlock began scanning me like I would give away how I knew.

"I've met you both before. At least twice, John three times."

Sherlock rounded on John who put his hands up in a defensive manner.

"Hey, I only met him once when I went out to get groceries."

Sherlock frowned and looked back at me.

"When?"

"Let's see…'Sorry 'bout this, chaps, but I need ta check somethin'' That elevator shaft _was_ a bit tight."

John's eyes shone with recognition.

"The elevator in the bank! You're El-"

"Elliot Stanford. The ex-thief hired to check the security."

I nodded. "That's not all. 'He just doesn't want to handle the dirty work, sir' 'Crime scene photographer. Name's Micheal Ross'. That's where the black hair dye came from. I was doing a favor for a friend of a friend, so to speak."

"Ah! Why didn't I see that?! It's obvious, so obvious."

Sherlock got up and began pacing, upset that he didn't notice me either of those times. I chuckled a bit with John who also seemed amused at the situation. He came over and sat down on the couch nearby.

"You're really good at disguises. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"That's something for me to know, and for _Sherlock_ to find out."

Sherlock paused in his pacing and glared at me before grabbing a laptop and showing it to John.

"'The intruder who can walk through walls'."

I leaned closer to read the article as Sherlock shut it and took it away.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon."

"God…you think-"

"He's killed another one."

I stood up and began heading towards the door when John shouted out.

"What are you doing?"

"Well _somebody's_ got to tell those boneheads down at the Yard. We got ourselves a serial killer!"

I grinned like a mad man, excited for the first time in ages, and hurried down the stairs as I heard footsteps following me. I reached out to call a cab, but Sherlock beat me to it and got one on the first try.

"How'd you do that? It takes me all day to get one."

"Talent. Are you coming?"

I blinked and noticed at both, Sherlock and John, had already gotten in the cab. Nodding, I slipped inside next to Sherlock and off we went to the Yard to speak with detective inspector Dimmock.

* * *

It didn't take long before we all were in the man's flat and I was thankful that I didn't have to wear those horrid scrubs this time. The flat was messy, typical of a bachelor, with books of south-east Asia studies stacked up on the stairs. Clothes were thrown about and I spotted a suitcase that was empty, but recently used. Sherlock then went over to the window and glanced out to the ground below with a smirk.

"Four floors up. _That's _why they think they're safe. Put a chain across the door, bolt it shut; think their impregnable. They don't reckon for one second there's another way in."

I immediately began searching for another way in, when I spotted a small skylight.

"Sherlock!"

He came over with a smile and I moved aside for him to open it up and spout his theory.

"We're dealing with a killer who can climb. He clings to the wall like an insect. That's how he got in. He climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, and dropped in through this skylight."

"You're not serious."

I rolled my eyes at Dimmock. "I could do it for you, if you want."

"And who the hell are you?"

"Dani Evans. A new…_colleague_ of Sherlock's. Should I show how he got in? I'm mostly for hire, but he got in the bank and Van Coon's the same way."

Dimmock looked beyond shocked and Sherlock sighed.

"He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony and killed Van Coon. And, of course, that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace."

Sherlock walked away from the skylight and begins looking at the stair nearby speaking, but more to himself than anyone.

"Now to find out what connects these two men."

He walked down the stairs and picked up one of the books, opening it to glance at the cover page. Snapping it closed, he hurried down the stair and out the door; very nearly leaving John and I behind. Running back up the stairs, I called out to John.

"John! Sherlock's about to leave without us!"

"Again?!"

He hurried down and kicked something black. I quickly scooped it up and followed him out, getting in the cab just before they left. Pulling it out, I frowned at the black lotus origami flower in my hand. _So they are in London. They should've just stayed in China. They're not going to be happy to see me again. _I chuckled slightly and John gave me a look.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing much. I just can't wait to meet some old _friends_."

"So, the killer goes into the bank leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon. Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in. Hours later, he dies."

"The killer finds Lukis at the library. He writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it'll be seen. Lukis goes home."

"Late that night he dies too."

John turned to Sherlock. "Why did they die, Sherlock?"

"Only the cipher can tell us."

"It's Chinese."

Both heads spun around as I slouched in the couch and didn't continue. I was tired of running around and my leg was giving me problems; my right hand massaging the area. I gave out a sigh, when I felt the couch move slightly. Opening my eyes, I came face to face with a scowling Sherlock, both of his arms on either side of my head.

"Tell me what you know. Now."

He was too close. My senses were in overdrive. My eyes were seeing red and flashbacks to the war and my time in Korea. Next thing I know, I was jumping up and pinning Sherlock to the floor in seconds with a switch blade at his throat. John was absolutely stunned and unable to move at the sight. Sherlock, on the other hand, was not amused but knew better than to do anything drastic. So he spoke calmly.

"Dani. You need to calm yourself down. Take deep breaths."

_Breaths? Oh…I'm breathing fast. When did that happen?_

"Good. You're here in my flat on Baker Street, remember? You were going to tell me about the cipher."

"R-Right. Sorry."

I got up, releasing him and putting away my knife as John gave out a sigh of relief. As I sat back down on the couch, I glared at my shaking hands. _Man, I've never had an episode like that. Then again, I've never had someone that close to me since I left my family to travel…but I could've killed him._

"Don't blame yourself." I glanced up and gave him a questioning look as he began speaking quickly and fluidly. "I must've triggered something in your memories that caused you to react this way. I believe it's a form of post traumatic stress and you merely reacted in self defense. Has this happened before?" He was pacing now and just as I was about to answer, he answered himself. "No. You were just as surprised as I was. Possibly because you've been traveling, therefore you haven't had much physical contact with other people."

I was tired of Sherlock analyzing me for the moment and easily distracted him.

"It's numbers."

"What?"

"The graffiti on the photo. I'm unsure what the first symbol is, but the second one is the Chinese numeral for one."

He suddenly grabbed his scarf and I hurried to follow, knowing that this is his signature move to tell John and I that he's leaving. Hopping in yet another cab, Sherlock called out to the driver.

"To Trafalgar Square."

* * *

"The world runs on codes and ciphers, John. From the million pound security system at the bank to the pin machine you took exception to. Cryptography inhabits our every waking moment."

"Yes, okay, but-"

"But it's all computer generated. Electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code breaking methods won't unravel it."

I stared at the stairs ahead of us with vexation. _Damn leg wound. Cooperate with me for once, would ya?_

"Where are we headed?"

I too wished to know where we were heading and what Sherlock said surprised both, John and I.

"I need to ask some advice."

"What? Sorry?"

"You heard me perfectly. I'm not saying it again."

I smirked and patted John on the shoulder.

"Now John, not even Sherlock can be perfect, despite how much he wants himself to be…This just isn't his area of expertise."

Of course that's what I was saying, but in reality my mind was running a mile a minute. _Sherlock needs advice? Knowing him for the short amount of time that I have, he'd rather die than ask for advice. So what could it be that he needs advice for that John and I wouldn't know? Let alone, something _he_ wouldn't know._ We continued towards a large building, that John informed me was the National Gallery, but Sherlock made a detour off to a side alley.

In the alleyway, a young man stood with a bag at his feet and an aerosol can of spray paint in his hands as he painted the side of the building. I smiled to myself. _Ah rebellion. I remember that phase._ Then the man spoke, not even pausing what he was doing.

"Part o' my new exhibition."

Sherlock walked around to his other side while I got a bit closer and looked at the 'painting'. It was a normal police officer with a pig face. It certainly was-

"Interesting."

Sherlock voiced my thoughts.

"Call it, Urban Bloodlust Frenzy."

He laughed a bit and John hummed. "Catchy."

"I got two minutes before a community support officer comes 'round that corner. Can we do this while I'm workin'?"

I saw no problem in it and plopped myself down on the curb. My leg hurt and I could really go for a smoke right about now. _Idiot. You quit ages ago. _I mentally groaned as Sherlock showed the guy, Raz, the photo of the Chinese we'd found; after Raz had tossed one of his cans at John.

"Know the author?"

"Recognize the paint. It's like Michigan, hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc."

"What about the symbols? Do you recognize them?"

"Not sure it's a proper language."

"Two men have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them."

Raz looked at John and I. "Oh? And this is what you got t' go on? It's nothing much now is it?"

I had a feeling he was talking about more than just the photos and I gave him a look that said, "Try me".

"Are you gonna help us or not?"

"I'll ask around."

"Somebody must know something about it."

There was a shout behind us and the two aforementioned officers ran up towards us. I didn't bother trying to get up from the curb, hoping that I could just act like I wasn't doing anything since my leg still hurt from the stairs. John just stood there like an idiot still holding the spray can while Raz and Sherlock ran off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? This gallery is a listed public building."

"No, no. Wait, wait. It's not me who painted that, I was just holding this for-"

He turned around to find Sherlock and Raz missing and then looked at me practically begging for help as the one officer kicked the bag of spray paint a bit.

"Bit of an enthusiast are we?"

Standing up, I gave the officer a blank, emotionless look. He looked back and met my gaze, but I could see the slight fear behind it. I reached into my pocket and the man freaked a bit and pulled a gun on me.

"D-Don't move!"

John immediately put his hands up and silently asked me to do as the man said. Ignoring the two of them, I pulled out a badge and flashed it at them.

"I suggest you put that gun away, unless you want me to tell your superior that you destroyed an undercover operation."

The man paled slightly and replaced his gun, John staring at me in shock.

"Ah, no sir. I apologize."

"Good. Now I suggest you two get back to your duties while we get back to ours."

He nodded and I looked at John, telling him to follow as I picked up the abandoned paint bag and called a taxi. Getting in, John stayed quiet for the most part before he finally came at me with questions.

"How did you do that?"

"Lots of practice. As I told you before, I am for hire. Hence, I get a lot of jobs that ask me to act like someone I'm not."

"And the badge?" I pulled it out and showed it to him so he could read the name at the bottom. "Detective Inspector Dimmock?!"

"Yup. He was getting on my nerves."

John smiled. "I'm sure Sherlock'll get a kick out of that."

I shook my head. "No. He won't care unless it has something to do with the case."

"I guess…Well, thanks. You know, for what you did back there."

He looked at me, but I didn't move or say anything more even as we pulled up to Baker Street.

"He likes you, ya know."

"Hm?" _That's a surprising conversation starter._

"Sherlock. That's the fastest I've ever seen him bring someone on a case."

"It's only because I interest him. He'll grow bored of me soon enough and if he doesn't…I might."

The last part was barely a murmur and we both headed inside, myself splitting up from John to retire for the day. I needed a nicotine patch and some violin music. Plopping down on my couch I took a few pain pills for my leg, put on a nicotine patch, and picked up an old violin I had inherited from my great-great grandfather. It had a beautiful tone, after being used for so long, and just as I began tuning it a furious knock came from my door. I sighed as I stood, John's voice coming from the other side.

"I told you, Sherlock, she doesn't want to be disturbed!"

"Nonsense, John. She is similar to you in the way that she _wants_ to be disturbed."

Limping to the door, I scowled at Sherlock.

"Actually, I'm quite done for today. My leg's acting up and the pain pills won't kick in until later and when they do, my mind won't be of much help to you."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off again. _I really do want to go, so…_

"If you want, come get me in a couple of hours. I should be mostly back in shape by then."

I heard a high pitched whistle back in my flat that sounded similar to a tea kettle, and turned back to the two in the door.

"Now if you don't mind, it seems I have something else to take care of."

"Of course not. I'll be back in a few hours."

He walked away and John gave me a small smile, to which I waved before closing my door quietly and pulling out my switch blade. I purposely made the alarm I set on my window in the bedroom sound like a tea kettle, as to not worry the other residents. So, as it continued to go off I swiftly made my way over to where I had hidden my Desert Eagle .44 magnum, taped to the underside of my wood coffee table.

Leveling it and replacing the knife, I opened the door and surveyed the room. The window was open, but other than that no one was in here. _They must've left when the alarm went off._ Pointing the gun out the window, I looked around the corner and saw no one so whoever it was must've ran off while I was talking with Sherlock. Scowling at the loss of action, I put the safety back on my gun when I noticed something on the ground. I bent over and picked it up with a smirk. It was a black origami lotus flower. Just then, my phone vibrated. On the screen it read.

_The BL are in London. Smuggling op. Someone swiped goods. Circus cover. Kingsway tunnel HQ. Give them what for!_

_-N_

_Looks like I may be joining Sherlock sooner than expected. _Pulling out a laptop after I re-taped my gun to the underside of the table again, I began typing furiously until I found what I wanted; live surveillance camera footage of John at the Yard and Sherlock at Van Coon's office and a map showing two blinking red dots moving in the same direction. _Gotta remember to thank Nick when I see him next. His passwords are quite helpful._ I stood up, grabbing my coat and hurried to the address flashing on the screen. They were both headed to the same place.

"Shaftesbury Avenue."

* * *

"So,…You bought your lunch from here, en route to the station, but where were you headed from-where did the taxi drop you-umph!"

Sherlock bumped into none other than John who looked less than pleased, compared to Sherlock's happy mood.

"Van Coon brought a package here the day he died. Whatever was hidden inside that case-I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information."

John kept trying to interrupt Sherlock, but he just kept right on going. Unknown to them, a figure was sipping on a cup of tea nearby, leaning against the wall of a Chinese themed shop, thoroughly amused at the situation.

"Credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China and then he came here."

"Sherlock."

"Somewhere on this street…Somewhere _near_. I don't know where, but-"

"That shop. Over there."

John pointed to a Chinese shop across the street and Sherlock furrowed his brows in disbelief. He was upset that John knew something he didn't and never even considered the fact that John may have more information than he did.

"How can you tell?"

"Lukis' diary. He was here. He wrote down the address."

John began walking away and Sherlock let out a small 'Oh' of surprise. The figure that had been sipping tea walked inside the shop and began looking at the wares as the bell above the door chimed; Sherlock and John entering. As the three of them bypassed each other unnoticed, the elder lady at the cashier desk held up a golden cat figurine.

"You want lucky cat?"

John declined and Sherlock gave a polite grimace that was supposed to be a smile. The other person, on the other hand, walked up to the woman.

"Duōshao qián?" (How much?)

She was surprised but smiled as she answered. "Ó! Ni jiang yīkou liúlì de zhōngguó. Duì ni lái shuō, 70 yuán." (Oh! You speak good Chinese. For you, 70 yuán. *Chinese currency. Approximately $8*)

The figure reached in their wallet, having done the conversion in their head, and pulled out seven pounds before taking the cat from her. She nodded and pat me on the shoulder.

"Ni de qīzi huì xihuan tā." (Your wife will like it.)

"Xièxiè." (Thank you.)

The figure walked over to John then as he looked at the ornate cups and held the cat out to him. John furrowed his brow confused as the figure spoke.

"You know the lucky cat is supposed to bring you wealth if the left paw is raised. I thought you should've considered her offer, John. It might help you earn money for rent this month."

His eyes widened and the figure tipped their hat to reveal the smirking Dani.

"W-What?! Dani, what are you doing here?! I thought-"

"You guys were taking too long and after someone paid me a visit, I thought I'd come after you guys myself."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at me with a frown. "How did you find us?"

Dani held up her phone that showed the two blinking dots on the map with a straight face. Sherlock quickly began searching his clothes and after he found the tracking bug on him, searched John's clothes. It was an amusing scene and something the lady at the counter said had Dani laughing hysterically.

"Kě'ài de qínglu." (Cute couple.)

Sherlock's glare worsened. "What did she say?"

"Said you two were a cute couple."

"I'm not gay!"

Judging by John's outburst, they had gotten that comment many times before and he did not appreciate it. He scowled and picked up the tea cup from before when his eyes widened.

"Sherlock. The label there."

Sherlock leaned over. "Yes. I see it."

"Exactly the same as the cipher."

John cleared his throat and the three of them headed out into the market area. Sherlock was, once again, upset that he had missed something and even more so because Dani already had half of the cipher figured out before him.

"It's an ancient number system: Hang Zhou. These days only street traders use it."

Dani nodded half heartedly. She too felt stupid for having not remembered after all the time she had spent in China not too long ago. _Then again, _She thought. _It wasn't exactly the best of times either._

"Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library. Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect."

Sherlock pulled over to a vegetable stand and began searching through them to find one with the right label.

"It's a fifteen. What we thought was the artist's tag, it was the number fifteen!"

"And the blindfold-the horizontal line-"

"Was the number one. Like I said before. I should've recognized the other one earlier, but Chinese isn't my strong suit."

Dani's lip twitched slightly as John smiled and patted her back.

"It's okay. I couldn't figure it out either." Dani and Sherlock both gave him a look and his smile faltered slightly. "Besides, shouldn't we celebrate? We did it."

He was smiling, but something caught his eye. A woman dressed in black wearing sunglasses took a picture of him with her camera phone, but the moment someone blocked his view of her she was gone. _Odd._ He thought, but he didn't notice the frown Dani had; having seen the woman also.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much my two reviewers and follower T.T it's nice to know that this is a decent work and has caught your interest. i hope others follow your example and encourage me further to continue. ^^ Thanks again, oh, and i totally forgot the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, or any other sherlock-y characters or plots aside from Dani and her buddy Nick ;)  
**

**Now, onward!  
**

* * *

The three of us sat down at the café across the street from the Chinese shop and after a waiter had taken my and John's order, John gave me an odd look.

"Take a picture, John. It'll last longer."

He flushed slightly and began stuttering. "N-No! I wasn't-I just…never mind."

I calmly sipped my second cup of tea. "Might as well ask. It's not going to hurt anyone."

"Okay then." He said, building up confidence. "How are you feeling?"

I raised a brow. _And here I thought it'd be something interesting… _"I'm fine John. The painkillers have kicked in and, although my mind is a bit hazy, you don't have to worry about anything."

"But-"

"John. I'll have you know, I'm very stubborn about some things and ignoring any pain that I'm in is one of them. Besides, I have a high tolerance for pain."

I mentally winced, wondering what Sherlock was thinking about this conversation, but he was too busy trying to figure out the case to really notice. So, John went to a different conversation.

"So,…two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat Emporium. What did they see?"

"It's not what they saw." Sherlock said as he lifted the napkin he had been writing on and put it away. "It's what they both brought back in those suitcases."

"And you don't mean duty free."

The waitress came by and handed John his sandwich and me my slice of pie. John took a bite before pointing it at my food in question.

"Sugar helps me think. Especially with the painkillers. Now get back to the conversation and stop getting distracted."

I waved my fork at him childishly and he rolled his eyes as Sherlock went back to the conversation with a small smirk.

"Think about what Sebastian told us. About Van Coon. About how he stayed afloat in the market."

"Lost five million."

"Made it back in a week." John nodded. "That's how he makes such easy money."

John looked confused for a moment, so I cut in. "He's a smuggler. Guy like him would've been perfect for the job. No one would suspect a businessman with a suitcase. It's too much of a normal occurrence so he'd get overlooked."

Sherlock nodded, glad that I followed. "Him and Lukis. Both taking frequent trips to Asia and both smuggling stuff about. The Lucky Cat was their drop off."

The two of them looked across the street at the shop in question when John said something I didn't expect.

"Why did they die?" _John getting sentimental?_ "I mean, it doesn't make sense. If they both turned up at the shop, delivered the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event. After they'd finished the job." _Or not._

Sherlock seemed to be thinking over the possibilities and I piped up before he could.

"Why else? They took something they shouldn't have."

"Right." Sherlock said, a bit miffed. John didn't notice.

"And the killer doesn't know which of them took it so he threatens them both. Right."

I had finished my pie ages ago, used to eating in a rushed setting, when Sherlock asked how long it had been since it rained. I wasn't sure so I didn't respond, but Sherlock could care less now that he shoved his way around me and began walking out the door to a small apartment across the street. I hurried after him while John tried to desperately shove as much of his sandwich as he could into his mouth before he followed. Standing outside the building, Sherlock bent down and checked a phone book on the ground.

"It's been here since Monday."

He stood and rang the bell for a while as I read the name on the name plate above it.

"Soo Lin Yao"

"Yes. I know what the name is." Sherlock was purposely being stubborn and I ignored his comment, silently following him as he walked around to a back alley. "No one's been in that flat for at least three days."

"Could've gone on holiday."

We all knew that wasn't probable and John just wanted to point it out. Meanwhile, Sherlock kept looking up and I followed his sight as he spotted an open window.

"Do you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?"

Just to mess with Sherlock, I responded. "Yes."

Sherlock glared at me while John gave me an incredulous look. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Let's me test out my security system." I said with a devilish smirk and John took a step back.

"Remind me not to try and get in your flat while your on holiday then."

We heard the creaking of metal and watched as Sherlock pulled down the fire escape. He started climbing up and I quickly followed, not wanting to be left behind. Of course, John wasn't quite as fast and just stood there down below with a frown.

"Sherlock! Dani!"

"Watch the front, would you John?"

His frown grew and he hurried off as Sherlock slipped in through the window. I heard a slight grunt and the sound of water, but slipped in behind him anyway as he replaced the vase he'd knocked over back on the small table. He looked down for a moment before shouting down to John.

"Someone else had been here. Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase. Just like I did."

I watched as Sherlock smelled the laundry with one thought going through my head. _Giving away our position like that. Che. He's never heard of being covert, has he? Any _smart _man wouldn't be yelling in a flat that they'd just broke into. For all we know, there's still someone here. Rule number one of any covert situation: Even if it seems empty, don't let the enemy know where you are._

I flinched as the buzzer rang, John also yelling up from below.

"You think you could let me in this time?" He was ignored. "Can you not keep doing this please?"

I watched as Sherlock pulled the milk out of the fridge and I wrinkled my nose.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." I whispered, but he ignored me as well. Needless to say, he regretted it when he took a whiff of the already sour milk. I gave him a look that said 'I told you so' before heading into another room as he yelled some more.

"I'm not the first."

"What?"

"Somebody's been in here before me!"

I rolled my eyes as he got even louder while I looked over the small bedroom. There was nothing seemingly out of place that I could see but as I went to turn around, something wrapped itself around my neck and began strangling me. I couldn't make any noise as I tried to escape when I remembered the switchblade in my pocket. I swiftly grabbed it, but the guy saw it coming and knocked it out of my hand, Sherlock's voice coming from the other room.

"Size eight feet. Small, but…athletic."

The buzzer rang again and I managed to swing an elbow into the mans gut hard enough that he released me. I sputtered and tried to get air back into my lungs, collapsing on the ground as the room span. A small glint of light caught my eye as the fiend went into the other room where Sherlock was and I reached out towards it. That switch blade was my only hope at the moment and I grasped it, only to feel a sharp pain as I grabbed the wrong end. My curse came out a wheeze, but I managed to make my way over to the main room where I heard Sherlock struggling with the man.

Coughing, I hurried over as best I could and put the knife to the mans throat. He knew I meant business and he released Sherlock, but elbowed me in the stomach. I gasped, only managing to cough some more, and the man tackled me to the ground to attack me again. He started trying to strangle me again, but he suddenly got up and left.

_Those jerks have done it now. They're going to regret trying to kill me._ I sat up and placed my hand over my stomach. I wasn't concerned about my lack of a full breath until Sherlock finally focused on me. He looked me over, analyzing me really, and stood up before offering his hand to me. I gave him a look, wondering if the lack of oxygen had gone up to his head to which he rolled his eyes and began retracting his hand. I grabbed it before he could and he helped me up, then began wandering the house for a moment. Sherlock returned and tossed a scarf at me, silently telling me to put that on to cover up the bruises forming on my neck. I nodded in thanks, not worrying about my hand since the cut had already closed, and found Sherlock waiting at the front door. He opened it when he saw me and went outside to talk to John with a hoarse voice.

"Ahem…The um milk's gone and the washing's starting to smell…Someone left in a hurry…three days ago."

"Somebody?"

Sherlock nodded and I finished for him in a slightly worse voice.

"Soo Lin Yao…Have to find her."

I was surprised John could even understand us with the way we were speaking but he continued to ask questions and cause the two of s more pain.

"Yeah, how exactly?"

Sherlock picked something up off the floor and held it up. "Well we could start with this."

We all started to walk away and John gave the two of us concerned looks. "Y-You two have gone all croaky. You getting a cold?"

"Shut up, John."

I glowered at him and he promptly shut his mouth, although a bit confused as to what he had done to get himself on my bad side. Pulling out my phone, I texted Nick.

_Get me tickets to the next circus event. Need 3 at least. BL made an attempt and they'll be lucky if they're still recognizable after I'm done._

_-D_

It took a while before he finally texted back with a reply.

_Consider it done. M says hi btw. He's not happy at all about u using his cameras._

_-N_

I smirked and chuckled but it turned into a cough and Sherlock gave me a look before glancing at my text quizzically while I replied.

_He shouldn't have made it so easy._

_-D_

"Who are you texting?"

I turned to Sherlock and began typing on my phone. _"A friend."_ He gave me a disbelieving look and I rolled my eyes. _"An informant, if you must know."_ He seemed to like that answer and went to ask more when the taxi cab pulled to a stop outside another building. I looked to John for help.

"It's the International Museum."

I nodded and followed Sherlock inside as he went to the Chinese Antiquities room, having forgotten about our conversation, and began speaking to a young man while he wandered around the room.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Three days ago. Um, here at the museum. This morning they told me that she'd resigned. Just like that. Left her work unfinished."

_Unfinished work? I wonder what he's talking about. It's not something you'd normally say. Makes it sound like she was in the middle of something when she resigned, which makes sense now that I think about it. She must be connected to the Black Lotus somehow and they're after her so she fled._

"What was the last thing she did on her final afternoon?"

He gestured for us to follow him, leading us to another room full of metal lockers.

"She does this demonstration for the tourists. A-A tea ceremony. So she would've packed up her things and just put them in here."

He went to one of the lockers and begun spinning the handle that opened it, but I noticed Sherlock walked right past it without a second glance. Looking up, I saw what had caught his attention. A statue stood there with bright yellow spray paint across the front. Soo Lin Yao had been targeted.

* * *

We left the museum and hurried down the dreaded stairs into the night.

"We have to get Soo Lin Yao."

"If she's still alive."

"She has to be." I winced at my sore throat, rubbing it and continued. "If they're still after her, that means they haven't found her yet."

I coughed, the speaking being a bit too much and I saw Sherlock give me a glance. _How could he be totally fine already? Must be because I covered for him and got strangled twice._

"Sherlock!"

The shout echoed and Raz, of all people ran up to us.

"Oh, look who it is."

John was obviously not happy, but Sherlock looked delighted at the prospect of valuable information.

"Found something you'll like."

Raz smirked at John and I, pleased that he found something we couldn't and we trailed after him as he led us to whatever it was he had found. I felt someone watching us along the way, and turned around with a glare. Whoever it was, they were gone and we soon found ourselves at a self made skate park. Graffiti was everywhere and I gazed in awe at the art that many considered a destruction of property.

"If you want to hide a tree, then the forest is the best place to do it, don't you say? People would walk straight past without knowing, unable to decipher the message."

Raz pointed at a certain wall and I looked at the yellow paint that had been somewhat covered up. Thinking for a moment, I figured out what the two numbers were.

"Three and nine are the numbers. Although I'm not certain since part of the nine is covered up."

Sherlock nodded and smirked a bit. "They have been here…And that's the exact same paint?"

Raz confirmed it and Sherlock turned to the two of us. "If we're going to decipher this code, we're gonna have to look for more evidence."

I sighed, but caught the flashlight he threw at me and followed John in one direction while he went the other way. Sherlock and I already didn't get along and I'd rather not make my throat worse by arguing with him. John and I walked down a tunnel, scouring the walls for any sign of the paint before we headed down a set of train tracks. I had the flash light pointed at the ground so I could see where I was walking, when I spotted something.

"John." I knelt down and touched the paint. It wasn't too old, but not exactly fresh either.

"Let's follow it. Maybe we'll find another cipher."

Standing up, we bother trailed it back to a large wall _covered_ in Chinese numbers. Grabbing my phone, I began taking a picture and John looked at me.

"Good idea."

I nodded. "Rule number 2: You find evidence you can't take with you photograph it."

He raised a brow as I coughed again, but shrugged it off as he began dialing Sherlock's number. After Sherlock didn't answer three times, John grew frustrated.

"That sod. He should at least keep his phone on if we're going to split up. Now we've got to go find him."

I rolled my eyes and showed John my phone that had another red blip back on it.

"How did you-"

"He shoved me in the café. I just slipped it back in his pocket."

I quickly grabbed John as we headed back to find Sherlock, ignoring the ache in my throat. _I might have to get that checked out later. _Finally spotting the elusive man, John ran up shouting at him.

"You have a phone, answer it! I've been calling you!…"

"We found it."

Sherlock looked at us excitedly and we all dashed back to the wall to find it covered completely in black paint. John looked shocked and Sherlock very slightly disappointed. Yet, I could see that little spark in his eye showing just how enthusiastic he was that someone didn't want him to see the cipher.

"It's been painted over. I don't…understand. It-It was here. Ten minutes ago, I saw it. A whole lot of graffiti. Dani saw it too."

I nodded to help calm John down before he had an aneurism.

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it."

He paused a moment then turned to me. He quickly grabbed my head with both hands and I began freaking out. _No. Calm down! It's just Sherlock being stupid again. Relax._ I relaxed slightly, Sherlock hardly caring that I had been freaking out as he shook my head slightly.

"Concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes."

"W-Why? You know I don't do well with physical contact."

I gave him a look as John tried to get his attention, but Sherlock was really adamant about doing whatever it is he was doing and began slowly spinning me in circles.

"I need you to maximize your visible memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?"

"Sherlock."

"Can you picture it?!"

"Well, if you'd just let me get my phone out, I'd bloody show you the damn picture I too-!"

I began coughing violently as Sherlock released me in shock and John hurried to my side looking concerned, patting my back. I shook my head telling him I was fine and held out my phone to Sherlock, the picture of the Chinese graffiti on the screen. He took it, giving me glances every once in a while before doing something with it and handing it back. My coughing attack finally stopped and I put my phone away, getting up and trying to control my breathing at the moment.

"Dani…"

Sherlock seemed to be trying to find the words to apologize to me and I waved him off.

"It's okay…Not your fault."

He nodded, probably thankful that I hadn't made him say anything in front of John. We all began heading back to Baker Street and I must've fallen asleep since I woke up to Sherlock shaking my shoulder.

"We're here."

"Mm." I winced at my tender throat, getting out of the cab in a daze. "Let me sleep in tomorrow…unless it's important."

"Can't. I need you to help me decode the cipher."

I mentally groaned and went with him and John up to their flat, removing the itchy scarf Sherlock had borrowed unconsciously. I plopped down on their couch, sinking into the plush cushions when John's shout abruptly woke me up a bit.

"Good God, Dani! What happened to your neck?!"

I heard Sherlock sigh and he answered from another room.

"We had a little run in with someone at Soo Lin Yao's apartment."

"Really? And you didn't tell me?!"

"No, because you would be doing the exact same thing you're doing now."

"And that is?"

"Talking." Sherlock returned and I smiled at what he'd said, when something cool was placed on my neck. I jumped a bit, but saw it was just a bag of…

"Are those fingers?"

"Yes, and they should help the swelling go down. So keep them there."

"Sherlock!" John was about to take them, but I just reached up and held them in place.

"It's fine John."

He gave me an odd look for just accepting the fact that they were fingers so easily, but I could really care less. I was exhausted, tired, sore, and just about ready to kill someone if I didn't get another nicotine patch soon. _Geeze, all I need is a bit of excitement and I'm _already_ going on three patches a day._ Something landed in my lap and I looked down to find a box…of nicotine patches.

"Thank God."

I tore it open and took off the old one, replacing it with two more; to the shock of John and the amusement of Sherlock.

"You smoke?"

"Used to. She's been clean for at least a year, maybe more but-"

"But the excitement and stress is getting to me. All I need now is some classical music and I'd be in heaven."

The two of them gave me a look but Sherlock went back to ignoring me as he printed out the photos. Half the stack landed in my lap while he had the rest and we went to work writing down the numbers on the photos. By the time we finished, it was early in the morning and I was trying to sleep. _Trying_ is the key word here, since John kept complaining about sleep and Sherlock kept talking.

"Always in pairs, John. Look. Numbers…come with partners."

"God I need to sleep."

"Why did he paint it so near the tracks?"

"No idea."

"Trains pass by there constantly. He wanted his people to see them." I grumbled.

"Of course. He's trying to get information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back."

"No shit, Sherlock. You thought he was just killing people for fun?"

He glared at me and turned back to the photos he had pinned on the wall, tearing them off and walking towards the door.

"We can't solve the code without Soo Lin Yao."

John and I groaned, but got up and headed to the museum to speak with Andy again.

"Two men traveled back from China and were murdered and their killer left messages in Hang Zhou numerals."

"Soo Lin Yao's in danger…and that cipher, it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well."

I had promptly detached myself from the group and began looking at the different artifacts nearby.

"Look, I've tried everywhere. Um, Friends, colleagues, I-I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away."

"Or, she could be right under our noses." They all turned to me and I moved to the side to show the tea pots. "These are 16th century tea pots. The clay used to make these pots absorbs the flavor of the tea and needs constant use in order to keep the clay from drying out and crumbling."

"Right. T-The pots were her obsession."

"Yesterday, only one of these pots were shining. Seems Soo Lin Yao is continuing her work after all."

* * *

That night, we waited in the museum after hours for Soo Lin to appear and do another tea ceremony. I was bored out of my mind, but Sherlock was tense and more excited than a kid in a candy store; although he wouldn't openly show it. After waiting for hours on end, we finally heard the creaking of metal and watched as Soo Lin Yao came and took out one of the zishā pots. Sherlock began his move and I quickly followed after him. He startled the poor woman out of her mind when he spoke and I had to dive to catch the zishā pot before it hit the ground.

"Sherlock, you really shouldn't have done that. You're lucky I caught it."

He ignored me and I delicately set the pot down on the table, giving a reassuring nod to Soo Lin as Sherlock flicked on the table light. She took one look at Sherlock and I swear I saw her roll her eyes.

"You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me."

"You've been clever to avoid him so far."

"I had to finish." She said, looking over the pots on the table. "Finish this work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."

"Who is he? Have you met him before?"

She was silent for a moment. "When I was a girl, living back in China…I recognized his…signature."

"The cipher"

"Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu."

I smirked. _Now I have a name. _"The spider, huh."

"What?"

I rolled my eyes at John. "Zhi Zhu. It means spider in Chinese. Very fitting for the man who likes to climb six storied to deliver a message."

Soo Lin bent down and removed her shoes, showing us the tattoo of a black lotus flower on the bottom of her heel.

"You know this mark?"

"Yes. It's the mark of a Tong."

"A Chinese crime syndicate, John, before you ask."

John nodded at my information and Soo Lin continued.

"Every foot soldier bares the mark. Everyone who hauls for them."

"Hauls?"

"My gosh, John. She was a smuggler. Probably did it to make a living. They pay pretty well."

He glared at me and Soo Lin looked a bit depressed as she replaced her shoe and recounted her life as a smuggler.

"I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood. No way of surviving day-to-day except to work for the bosses."

"Who are they?"

"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen. I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England. They gave me a job here. Everything was good. A new life."

"And they came looking for you."

"Yes. I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me."

"But once you're in that life, they never let you leave."

She nodded at me, a bit surprised that I would know these things.

"A small community like ours. They were never really far away." She rubbed under her eyes to stop and tears from falling and kept going. "He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen."

"And you have no idea what it was."

She shook her head. "I refused to help."

John leaned forward. "So, you knew him well, when you were living back in China."

Then she said something that made me consider not destroying the man I wanted to maim.

"Oh yes. He's my brother."

_Great. That makes it a bit more difficult. Now it's a toss up between killing him or leaving him to be kind to her. Hm…Pros and cons, pros and cons. On one side, she might be happy for not having her only brother dead and, on the other side, she might be better off with him dead. Agh, too much to consider. _

Two orphans…We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet; in the hands of the one they call Shan, the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. The next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting."

"Can you decipher these?"

Sherlock put the papers on her desk that had the cipher. "These are numbers."

"Yes. I know."

"This one here is the number fifteen and this one, over the mans eyes, is the Chinese number one."

"Yes." Sherlock said in an annoyed tone. "But what's the _code_?"

She looked up and gave me a glance. "All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book."

The lights suddenly turned out and Sherlock stood straight, looking around the room trying to find our visitor.

"He's here. Zhi Zhu. He's found me."

Sherlock immediately turned and ran as John tried to call him back.

"No, no. Sherlock. Sherlock! Wait!" He frowned and grabbed Soo Yin, taking her over towards the small tunnel she used before and telling her to get in. We heard gun shots and John turned to me.

"Stay here with her. I've got to go help him. Bolt the door after me."

He turned to go and I heard more gunshots, my mind begging me to take part in the action.

"Qù bāngzhù nín de péngyou." (Go, help your friend.)

I gave her a look. "Ni zěnme zhīdào wo jiang zhōngwén ma?" (How do you know that I speak Chinese?)

"Xìngyùn māo." (Lucky Cat.)

I smiled at her, but dropped it quickly and switched back to English. "Your brother…Should I get rid of him?"

She looked at me confused. "Get rid of him? How?"

I argued with myself on what to do, but decided to show her anyway. Pulling up the bottom portion of my shirt, I showed her the black panther tattoo across my stomach. She gasped quietly.

"Hēi bào." (Black Panther.)

"Yes. Now I need you to understand that he tried to kill me twice and also broke into my flat. I have a grudge against him, but because he is your brother I want to know what you want me to do."

She was quiet for a moment but gave me an answer. "He will come for me and I will die. I do not want him to live with the guilt of what he has done and I want him to be free from Shan."

I nodded and left the small enclosed space, turning back once to tell her one last thing. "I will free him for you, Soo Lin Yao."

Then, I ran after Sherlock and John. _Think. He's going to come for Soo Lin, but she doesn't want me to help her. She's already resigned to death. So where-That's right! _I pulled out my phone and followed the red dot to where Sherlock was, taking a few shortcuts until I met him in the anthropology gallery. Gun shots rang out and I jumped behind a display of skulls with him. He gave me a look, question why I was there, but went back to not caring as he shouted at the assailant.

"Careful! Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old! Have a bit of respect!"

The barrage of bullets stopped and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at Sherlock as he thanked the man.

"Thank you."

There was no further shooting and I frowned. Soo Lin Yao would be dead in moments and sure enough, one last shot rang out. I released the breath I was holding and went back to the room where I left her. John was already there and he glared at me, grabbing my shirt with a fist. He looked more upset than angry.

"Why didn't you stay here like I told you?"

I glowered at him and grabbed his wrist with a strong grip, forcing him to release his hold on me.

"She was already resigned to death, John. She knew it was going to happen and just didn't want to prolong the inevitable. Accept that, and move on."

He still frowned, but allowed me to walk over to Soo Lin's body, closing her eyes I spoke.

"Ānxí ba, Soo Lin Yao." (Rest in peace, Soo Lin Yao.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again to my two reviews and 3 followers ^^ Here's the next chapter and I left it off at a bit of a cliffy. ;) Please review!**

* * *

"How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac's out there." Dimmock ignored John and he quickly got frustrated. "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."

Sherlock interrupted before John could go any further.

"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang. A gang of international smugglers. A gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London, right under your nose."

There was a pause, when Dimmock finally responded.

"Can you prove that?"

"Bet your damn job we can."

I said with a large smirk. The look on his face was priceless.

Next thing I know, we're all in a cafeteria and Sherlock walks over to a young woman who's debating on the pork or pasta. Sherlock of course, immediately calls her out on it.

"This place is never gonna trouble Egon Ronay, is it? I'd stick with the pasta. Won't be doing roast pork; not with your slicing up cadavers."

_Oh, she must be the morgue worker here. Has a bit of a fancy for Sherlock too it seems. Too bad he's to thick to see it._

"What are you having?"

"Don't eat while I'm working. Digesting slows me down."

"So you're working here tonight?"

"Need to examine some bodies."

"Some?"

"Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis."

She looked down at her clipboard. "They're on my list."

"Could you wheel them out again for me?"

"W-Well, their paperwork's already gone through."

Sherlock paused for a moment and I quickly saw his acting face go on. _Oh no. Maybe he does know about her feelings for him. What the devil's he going to do to get his way this time?_ He pointed to her hair and began his compliments.

"You changed your hair."

"What?"

"The style. It's usually parted in the middle."

"Yes, well…"

"Well, it's good. It, Um…suits you better this way."

My eyes widened as the woman flushed slightly and led us to the morgue. I looked over at Sherlock and he raised a brow at me.

"What?"

"You just seduced her to get her to do what you want."

"_Seduced_? No, merely…won over; deluded."

I shook my head in part disgust and part awe. _I know my job involved doing things like that, but wow Sherlock. Now only that, but it was _good_. _When we entered the morgue, the young woman had already pulled out the bodies and began unzipping them as Sherlock announced,

"We just need to see the feet."

"The feet?"

"Yes. Do you mind if we have a look at them?" She unzipped the bags and showed the tattoo on the heel. "Now Van Coon." The same was done for him and Sherlock turned to Dimmock.

"So…"

"So either these two men decided to go and visit the same Chinese tattoo parlor, or I'm telling the truth."

Dimmock knew he had lost and relented.

"What do you want?"

"I want every book from Lukis' apartment and Van Coon's."

"Their books?"

I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to be getting much sleep tonight either and soon we were back in Sherlock's flat. John was still shaken over Soo Lin's death, but he looked over at me from his chair.

"How's your throat?"

"Better. The swellings gone down and it doesn't hurt as much, so I'll live."

_Unlike Zhi Zhu when I finish him._

"It's not just a criminal organization. It's a cult."

"What gave you that idea, Sherlock? Was it when Soo Lin's brother was corrupted or when they started killing people off?"

"Dani."

John gave me an exhausted look and I rubbed my eyes with one hand. "Right. Sorry. Lack of sleep."

"I know what you mean…but Sherlock? She did give us a name."

"Yes. Shan. General Shan."

"We're still not closer to finding them."

"Wrong. We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces." He suddenly realized something. "Why did he need his sister? Why did he need her expertise?"

"Because she worked at the museum."

"Exactly."

"Ancient Chinese relics. It's what they specialize in aside from the drug market. They steal them from China, bring them here, and sell them. Typical of a smuggling group."

I turned John's laptop that I had been borrowing and showed them the screen which had a list of Chinese relics that had been sold here in the past year or so. Sherlock took it from me and gave me a scrutinizing glance.

"How do you keep finding these things? First the numbers, then you speaking Chinese. You also know about smugglers and how they work as well as the zishā tea pots and the Tong. You're not just a mere traveler who was in Afghanistan during the war…You're a Chinese smuggler."

I laughed. Just full out laughed and John looked between the two of us as he tried to figure out what he should be doing.

"Sorry, no. I'm not a smuggler as you had hoped, Sherlock. I _was_, however, in China for a prolonged period of time during my travels. I wasn't in the best of shape and stayed with a Buddhist monk who taught me Chinese and owned a zishā tea set. Crazy old man had me learn how to make tea and lectured me day in and day out about old Chinese relics until I was healthy enough to leave."

"That still doesn't explain how you know about the smugglers."

"It was the Monk. He used to be a smuggler and he told me tales like an old grandfather about how he did it for survival and how the group tried to kill him when he finally gained his freedom. The only reason he was even still alive was because he was nearly killed and managed to be saved by yet another monk. He always said I used to remind him of himself. After he was saved, he took over after that monk and gained a new identity so to speak."

"What's his name?"

I gave Sherlock a disbelieving look. "What? You don't believe me?" He gave me a glare in return. "Fine. I'll do you one better. Here."

I handed him my phone and showed him and John the photograph of an elderly monk smiling at the camera while I stood next to him; holding my hand behind his bald head like bunny ears. Sherlock seemed satisfied for now, but I could still see how much he wanted to find out more about me. Turning to John he tossed Van Coon and Lukis' printed diary pages at him.

"Find the dates they went to China and I'll see if they coincide with the auction dates."

They did and suddenly there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson walked in.

"Oh, hello Dani. Surprising to see you up here. I hope the boys aren't giving you any trouble."

"Not at all, Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock cleared his throat and Mrs. Hudson turned to him. "Ah, right. Are we collecting for a charity, Sherlock? A young man's outside with crates of books."

I stood up and brushed nonexistent dirt off my pants. "I'll help them bring them in."

"Why? Let them do all the dirty work."

"Really, Sherlock? I may be a woman, but I've taken down men five times my size _barehanded _so I think a little amount of boxes will be fine. Besides, I helped build bridges in Singapore."

"And yet you couldn't take down Zhi Zhu when he tried to strangle you?"

I spun around and glared at him. "If you hadn't shouted out our position I wouldn't have had to even deal with him. He was in my blind spot and caught me by surprise. It's not like _you_ did any better. _I_ at least got a few hits in."

With that, I walked out and helped the officers bring in the boxes, grumbling to myself the whole time. _Stupid, obnoxious, genius. Get a life and stop trying to figure out mine. I already know it's my own fault for getting strangled. I let my guard down when I shouldn't have, breaking one of my own rules, and I don't need you to sit there and act like a pompous jerk by telling me so._ Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I growled at them.

"What?!"

There before me, stood Mrs. Hudson; eyes wide and panicking. I immediately put my box down in the middle of the hallway.

"Ah, geeze, Mrs. Hudson. I'm so sorry! It's just-I've just-" I sighed. "I've just had a _really _bad day. I didn't mean to take it out on you, Mrs. Hudson. I'm sorry."

Her face relaxed and she smiled while waving her hand.

"No, no, dear. It's fine. I understand. Being around Sherlock does that to you. I'm surprised you haven't packed up your things and fled the country already."

She laughed it off and I chuckled a bit too. "I wouldn't do that, Mrs. Hudson. I couldn't possibly leave you here alone with him."

We both had a good laugh at that, until Sherlock's shout came from up the stairs.

"Dani!"

I rolled my eyes and picked up the box. "Gotta go see what he wants, Mrs. Hudson. It was nice talking to you."

"You too, dear. I'll bring you up some tea later, but just this once. I'm not your house keeper."

I nodded and went back up the stairs, dropping off the box and listening to Sherlock and John.

"So the numbers are references."

"To books."

I caught on. "Each pair of numbers is a page and the word on that page."

"Okay, so what's the message?"

"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of book code. It has to be one they both own."

"Okay fine. Well this shouldn't take too long, should it."

John was all sarcasm and we all opened a box and began taking out the books inside. Sherlock took Lukis' while John and I took Van Coon's. We had just started, when Dimmock came in the room holding an evidence bag full of papers.

"We found these at the museum. Is this your writing?"

"We, uh, hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us."

He nodded and set them down as he noticed us going through the large boxes of books.

"Anything else I could do? To assist you, I mean."

"Some silence right now would be marvelous."

I smirked and then I remembered something. "Hey Dimmock."

"Ah…yes, and you are?"

"Dani Evans, and I believe you might be needing this back." I tossed him something and he caught it, flipping it over to find his badge.

"Wha-How did you get this?"

"Magic."

I smirked devilishly and he walked off with a scowl, before I continued my book search. I grabbed a romantic, trash thriller that everyone would own and opened it to the fifteenth page. The first word was 'like' and I stacked it up in a pile of rejected books. Book after book we continued on doing this, every once in a while John and I switching so that I could sit down, but for the most part we weren't finding anything.

Soon, it was morning and I had just about fallen asleep standing up, having forgotten about resting my leg after five hours of nonstop reading. A watch alarm went off and I blinked wearily at John as he buried his head in his hands.

"Sorry. I've got to go to work. I'll…I'll see you later, Sherlock, Dani."

I nodded while Sherlock was completely ignorant as to what was going on. Finally, I began counted down to the last book and when I got to it, the word was 'but'. I sighed and collapsed in John's vacant chair.

"That was the last book, Sherlock."

He didn't answer and walked around for a moment. "A book that everybody would own."

He went over to his own bookshelf and pulled off a dictionary, a holy bible, and a few others. I groaned.

"Sherlock, that won't work. There's so many difference versions and translations of those that they wouldn't be able to all have the same one."

He blew me off, yet again and I just gave up. Then, my phone buzzed in my pocket, startling the crap out of me. After nearly jumping through the ceiling, I fumbled the phone out of my pocket and looked at the text.

_Got your tickets. Even got you four. One for your date ;)_

_-N_

I face palmed and got up to answer the door when someone knocked. Opening it, an average sized male was standing there. A mail delivery cap sat on his head over moppy brown hair and thin framed glasses rested on his nose below bright vivid green eyes.

"Hey Nick."

"Dani."

He passed over the envelope and I took it from him with a half hearted smile.

"Well, you look like crap."

"Got no sleep the past two days…and what did you mean by date?"

I glared at him and he just chuckled. "Your buddy John's got a date actually. I just like teasing you."

"Right. Well get out of here before your boss starts looking for you. I don't need him busting in my flat to talk to me again."

He laughed. "I remember when that happened! You nearly bashed his skull in with a sock full of butter and set him on fire with a super soaker!"

"Yeah…he still glares at me for that when I see him…So, tell him I said hi!"

I smiled brightly like a child and he mock saluted me.

"Yes, ma'am! Bye Dani!"

"Later, Nick."

I walked back inside and tossed the envelope at Sherlock, who caught it with ease. Blinking once at it, he looked up and me to question it.

"Just open it."

He did and pulled out the circus tickets I had asked Nick for, giving me a smile.

"Good job, Dani. Although I don't know why you got four."

"Hey, don't ask me. My informant says John's got-"

"I've got what?"

John had just walked in looking pleased, but Sherlock answered before I could tell him we knew he had a date. _Sherlock probably just wants to mess with him._

"Nothing." Sherlock said. "I need to get some air. We're going out tonight."

"Actually, I've uh…got a date."

"What?"

I sighed. _That's what I was trying to tell you, Sherlock._

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun?"

"That's what I was suggesting."

I paused in my mental musing and had to cover my mouth to keep from outright laughing at what Sherlock was suggesting.

"No it wasn't. At least I hope not."

I came up to John and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Where're you and the lucky lady going?"

"Cinema."

"Eh, dull, boring, predictable."

I rolled my eyes at Sherlock and snatched the envelope from him before he could say any more.

"Here John. I got this for you and your date. It's better than the cinema and you might as well go since I already bought you your tickets."

"You got this…for me? Wait…How did you know I had a date?"

I kind of looked away when he brought that up and began wandering the room.

"Dani? Are you…Are you spying on me?"

I turned around shocked. "What?! No! I mean…I may _know_ someone who does but…"

John instantly directed his gaze to Sherlock who opened his mouth in fake surprise.

"Me? You think _I_ did it? John, I…I'm appalled!"

I snickered and shook my head at John. "I'm not talking about Sherlock, but I wish you luck on your…_date_."

He obviously didn't like the way I said 'date' but he didn't have much of a choice, before he went off to get ready. As he did, Sherlock turned to me as I sat on the couch.

"So who is it that you have spying on us?"

"God, Sherlock. Not now, please?"

"Not until I get some answers."

I sighed, putting my head in my hands and grinding my knuckles against my temples.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because it'll compromise everything I've done and everything they've done as well as cause me to lose my informant when he loses his job for me telling you. I can't risk that, so just drop the subject, would ya? Besides, I'm absolutely positive you already know him."

He frowned at the lack of information and turned away, putting his hands in front of his mouth in a steeple position. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to relax for a moment when he spoke again.

"Why aren't you getting ready?"

I knew he was talking about the circus, but just chose to ignore him.

"I've found most women dress up when they go out and yet, you haven't even considered it. Why?"

I opened one eye, silently wondering what possessed Sherlock to ask me something like this, as well as if this was his view on society. _He just assumes everyone goes by the social norm, although whether that's due to what he observes or not is a mystery._ I closed my eye again and formed an answer for him in my head before actually saying it.

"I'm not exactly the average woman, Sherlock. As you said before, I am uncomfortable with my body and dislike almost everything about it. Being feminine, to me, is a curse so I try to hide it behind my clothes and my attitude. Blatantly going out in a dress or anything similar is…unimaginable. I would do anything to go against it and I feel like…I don't even resemble a woman and would look like a man in drag if I actually did put on a dress. Therefore, I don't think about it and pull of the casual act of a man as best I can."

I sighed and stood up from the couch.

"Where are you going?"

I looked over at him, seeing the curious look behind his grey eyes and the absolute fascination he held in them. And there was something else. Something not as…concrete as the others. Almost like…_empathy; _like he understood the pain of being trapped in your own body. Blinking away from his gaze, I waved a hand over my shoulder.

"To take another pain pill. I'll wait for you outside."

And I walked out of the flat without another word.

* * *

"Hi. I have two tickets reserved for tonight."

"And what's the name?"

"Ah…Holmes."

The man at the box office flipped through some envelopes holding the tickets before turning back to John.

"Actually, I have…four in that name."

"No. I don't think so. We only booked two."

A voice came from behind them and John spun around to find Sherlock and Dani, rubbing the back of her head apologetically.

Actually, John, I got two more for Sherlock and I. He wanted to go and…well, here we are."

John was absolutely pissed and Dani quickly scampered up the stairs as Sherlock said a quick 'hello' to Sarah before following Dani. John begrudgingly paid the box office manager and Sarah asked him to wait for her while she went to the rest room. Dani and Sherlock, unfortunately, were cornered and had to listen as John chewed them out for what they had done.

"You couldn't of let me have just one night off."

"The Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one night. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England."

"Dressed as a tightrope walker? Come on Sherlock. Behave!"

"We're looking for a killer who can climb. Who can shin up a rope. Where else can you find that kind of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They needed a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now all I need is to have a quick look around the place-"

"Fine." John interrupted. "You do that. I'm going to take Sarah for a pint."

"I need your help!"

"You have Dani! Besides, I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening."

"Like what?!"

_God, Sherlock. For a genius, you can be really dense sometimes._ Dani thought.

"Are you kidding?"

Sherlock rolled his head around and kept his voice down. "What's so important?"

"Sherlock, I have a date. You want to chase some killer while I'm trying ta-"

"What?!"

Dani spotted Sarah coming from the bathroom and tried to get John to shut up before he screwed up his date more than it already is; making a slashing motion across her neck.

"While I'm trying ta get off with Sarah!"

_Too late._ He turned and saw Sarah. "Heeeyyy…ready?"

"Yeah."

Sherlock went up first and then Dani went to, but John grabbed her shoulder and growled in her ear.

"Don't think you're getting out of this either. I know those tickets were preordered."

Dani winced and treaded up the stairs like a dejected puppy with her tail between her legs. When they reached the top, they all stood around a small ring lit up by candles and John turned back to them.

"You said 'circus'. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is…odd."

"This is not their day job."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot. They're not a circus, they're a gang of international smugglers."

A small tapping from a drum began and, as it got faster, a woman came out to the center of the ring. She was dressed in a bright, ornate red robes with a large headdress and lots of makeup. Larger drums began to play and the woman stepped over to a black cover, pulling it off to reveal an ancient Chinese ballista: a crossbow. Reaching down, she picked up an arrow and showed it to the crowd. It was loaded into the ballista and she dropped a feather into a bowl, launching the arrow into a wooden board. The arrow was removed, and a masked man steps forward and is chained to the board as Sherlock whispers about the act.

"Classic Chinese escapology act. The crossbow's on a delicate spring. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

John and Sarah return to gazing at the ballista as the woman puts another arrow in place and the warrior makes grunts and yells as his bonds are tightened. All the while Dani stands behind them, face pale as she tries to ignore the flashbacks. _The clattering of chains as she fought against her bonds. The feeling of cold metal against her skin. The yells and shouts from herself and others as they are subjected to-_ A crash rings out and Dani returns to reality shaken. The Chinese woman holds up a small dagger and Sherlock begins explaining again.

"She splits the sand bag, the sand pours out, gradually the weight lowers into the bowl."

More grunts come from the escaping man and he barely makes it out of the chains as the shot fired. Unknown to John, Sherlock had grabbed Dani and dragged her backstage with him to help him search for evidence. In the dressing room area, Dani tries to overcome the memories and helps Sherlock search while the show continued outside. Risking a peak behind the curtain, Dani calls back to Sherlock.

"Found Zhi Zhu."

"Well, well."

The two of them are entranced for a moment by the flying acrobat, when the clacking of a door alerts them and they dash behind the rack of clothes. Sherlock covers Dani's mouth to silence her heavy breathing, and it takes every fiber of her being to not lash out and expose them both to the woman who'd just walked in. The woman soon leaves and Sherlock lets go of Dani to pick up a yellow aerosol can from a bag hidden behind the clothes.

"Found you."

Sherlock steps out with Dani right behind him as he tested the paint out on the mirror. It was the same exact paint as the one used in the ciphers and Sherlock grins before he notices something move in the mirror.

"Dani!"

Dani was being held with a sword at her throat by someone in a warrior mask and yet, she didn't look scared for a moment. She swiftly swung her arm back into the man's stomach, similar to how she had done to Zhi Zhu, then swung a high kick around which hit him in the upper arm instead of the head like she planned.

"Damn."

Sherlock pulled her back out of the sword's reach as the man slashed at her, and he engaged in fighting the man while she searched for a better weapon. The man was bulky and strong and, while she could fight him in hand-to-hand, in such close quarters and with him wielding a weapon she was out matched. Luckily, Sherlock was covered; using the aerosol can to block the sword and then to spray his assailant in the face when he kneed him in the stomach. Shoving the man down, Sherlock thought he was nearly done but the man flipped back up and kicked him out the curtain and into the ring.

People ran out screaming as the sword wielding man went after Sherlock and Dani jumped down into the ring distracting the man with different martial arts while Sherlock struggled to get up off the floor. John tried to help but instead took a good kick to the ribs and stumbled back. Dani then spotted Zhi Zhu and grew predatory, completely ignoring the other man until he hit her hard across the head with the hilt of the sword. She faltered and stumbled to the side as though in a drunken daze. She put a hand up to her head where she was hit and felt the blood dripping down towards her face. Standing up straight, she turned to the man with a bored expression.

"You shouldn't have done that." The startled man took a step back trying to figure out how she was still standing. "After all…Wo hēi bào." (I am black panther.)

The man was absolutely frozen an stuttered. "H-Hēi bào."

Then, he was struck down by Sarah who was wielding one of the arrows used in the crossbow demonstration, surprising Dani. Sherlock sits up and pulls the shoe off of the man, revealing the black lotus tattoo on his heel. Standing up, he starts heading for the exit as Sarah helps John out and Dani gives the man on the ground on last kick to the face.

"Come on. Let's go."

* * *

I was barely functioning as we walked into the police station, having bought a driving cap off the cab driver to cover up any blood in my hair after Sherlock had gotten out. I was surprised he hadn't notice this whole time, but it was dark and he was too focused on informing the police about catching the gang. Walking into the office, Dimmock's voice bounced painfully off the inner workings of my mind.

"I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted"

"Look. I saw the mark in the circus. The tattoo we saw on the two bodies. The mark of the Tong."

John continued before Sherlock chewed Dimmock's head off. "Lukis and Van Coon were part of their smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something while they were in China; something valuable."

"These circus performers were gang members, sent here to get it back."

"Get what back?"

Sherlock frowned and John finally told Dimmock that we didn't know.

"You don't know. Mr. Holmes, I've done everything you've asked. Lestrade seems to think you're worth something. I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it, other than a massive bill for overtime."

We had nothing so we left and went back to Baker Street, defeated.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow."

"No they won't. They won't leave until they have what they came for, John."

"Dani's right. We need to find their hideout. Their rendezvous."

I collapsed on the couch and held my head as I tried to keep the world from spinning; the edges already getting fuzzy.

"Somewhere in this message it must tell us."

"Well, then perhaps I shall leave you to it."

I had completely forgotten Sarah was there and it seemed the others did too. Then Sherlock and John both spoke at the same time, making my already muddled head worse.

"No, no. You don't have to go. Does she? No. You can stay."-"Yes. It'd be better to study if you left right now."

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like."

It was quiet for a moment and I thought that was the end of it, but Sarah obviously didn't.

"Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?"

"Oh God."

I sigh at both Sherlock and John's annoying date while John went off to find something to give her.

"John! Can you get me some tea?! And those fingers if you have a chance!"

"Fingers?"

I waved Sarah off and John came back in the room with my frozen fingers.

"You were hurt, Dani?"

"No. Nu-uh. _Nope_. Just…my neck bothering me."

He didn't seem convinced but went back to the kitchen nonetheless while Sarah walked around.

"So this is what you do, you and John. You solve puzzles for a living."

"Consulting detective…and Dani is involved as well."

"Thanks for remembering me." I muttered sarcastically.

Sarah went over towards Sherlock and I could sense his tension a mile away. _Well, this should be good. Sherlock versus a normal, if not annoying, woman. Where's my tea?_

"What are these squiggles?"

"They're numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect."

"Oh, right. Well, pst. I guess I should've known that."

Sarah picked up the evidence bag we had received from Dimmock and I nearly shot up from my seat. _Ah! She's touching Sherlock's stuff! That's like at the top of 'The Things That Will Make Sherlock Angry' list!_

"So these numbers, it's a cipher."

"Exactly."

"And each pair of numbers is a word."

_Now how the devil-_ "How did you know that?"

"Well, two words have already been translated, here."

This time I did stand up and instantly regretted it as my vision swayed and I ran into one of the stacks of book boxes. Refocusing, I hobbled over to Sherlock as he called John.

"John, look at this! Soo Lin, at the museum, she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it…Nine…Mill."

"That mean 'millions'?"

"Nine million quid, for what? We need to know the end of this sentence."

Sherlock grabbed his coat and began heading towards the door with the paper.

"Where are you going?"

"To the museum. To the restoration room. Agh, we must've been staring right at it!"

"At what?"

"The book, John! The book! The key to cracking the cipher! Soo Lin used it to do this whilst we were running around the gallery! She started to translate the code! Must be on her desk!"

All of his yelling had my head ringing like the after effects of a hand grenade. I delicately made my way back to the couch and actually laid down this time.

"Um, Dani? You're not going with Sherlock?"

"No. Don't mind me, I'll be sleeping."

"Ah, alright then. Well, then Sarah, what do you think so far? Was it okay?"

"Yeah, no, absolutely. I mean…Well, a quiet night in is jus-just what the doctor ordered. Uh, I mean I'd love to go out for the evening and wrestle a few Chinese gangsters. You know, generally, but a girl _can _get too much."

There was a slight awkward silence following her failed attempt at a joke, before John broke it by offering to order take-away. While we were waiting, a knock came to the door and John spoke up.

"Well, blimey that was quick. I'll just pop down."

"Do you want me to…lay the table?"

"Um, eat off tray?"

"Yeah."

Something was wrong. I couldn't figure it out with my head pounding, but then suddenly everything hit me all at once. _The woman I saw taking photos is the same woman who led the circus performance tonight. She was the first gone too. General Shan! She was targeting us the moment we stuck our noses too deep! And the take-away place is twenty minutes from here. It's only been ten at most! John!_ I sat up way too quickly for my body's liking, but forced myself to stumble over to the door; texting Sherlock the whole way. Sarah immediately was at my side and trying to stop me.

"W-What are you doing?!"

"John! He's in trouble! The take-away is twenty minutes away! General Shan she-"

I was cut off as I opened the door and hit across the head in the same place as before. The last sound I heard being Sarah's muffled scream before I dropped my phone and everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about this. It's a bit short compared to the other chapters, but this is where I end the first episode 'The Blind Banker' ^^ This'll also give a bit more insight on Dani's past, so I hope you enjoy it and please give me some reviews too!**

* * *

Sherlock hurried back to the flat, having discovered what the cipher said through the book London A-Z. Slamming the door, he dashed up the stairs calling out to the three people he believed to be in his flat.

"John! Dani! I've got it! The cipher! The book! It's the London A-Z that they used-"

He cut himself off as he took a good look around the room and saw the same cipher used at the bank, the library, and the museum. He quickly began searching his flat for something, _anything_, that could help him discover where the Black Lotus' headquarters were before it was too late.

"Come on, come on."

Tossing papers off his desk and books around the room, he heard one of the books make an unusual sound when it hit the floor. He stopped what he was doing and turned around. There on the floor was a cell phone. Dani's cell phone. Sherlock walked over slowly, as though the device would get up and walk away if he got to close. Reaching down, he picked it up and on the screen was a text message to him that hadn't been sent.

_Shan's targeted us since beginning. HQ Kings-_

That was where it ended and Sherlock re-read it over and over again. _Kings, kings. What could she mean? A king's headquarters? No. The cipher, it said 'tramway'. Kings tramway…That's it!_ Sherlock put the phone in his pocket and ran to his bookshelf, pulling out a map of London. Eyes scanning the map, he found what he was looking for and circled it.

* * *

I woke up with a huge migraine; head pounding, room spinning, the whole bit. I spotted a blurred shape next to me and recognized the quiet sobs to be that of a woman. Namely, John's date, Sarah.

"Mm, Sarah? You okay?"

She lifted her head a bit, but nothing more than muffles escaped her lips. My head lolled to the side and then down towards my chest as I tried to will my limbs to move.

"Rope…Heh, smart people use cables."

I knew I was delirious. Two hard hits to the head kind of does that to you. Managing to hold my head up and lean forward a bit, my vision and mind a bit clearer, I saw John waking up on Sarah's other side.

"John. I'm sure Sarah would agree that this is the worst date she's ever been on, so you better wake up and make it up to her."

He groaned and mumbled. "Shut up, Dani."

"Just seeing if you were paying attention."

"A book is like a magic garden, carried in your pocket."

My gaze flew to the Chinese woman wearing sunglasses and the two men behind her. She was the same woman who led the circus, which I noticed earlier, and one of the guys behind her made me smirk in the dim light. It was the warrior and his nose was a nice shade of purple from me kicking in his face earlier. I was about to call out to him, but I was more focused on cutting through my ropes with a piece of glass I'd sewn into a secret pocket in my coat sleeve.

"Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock's here? Where?"

I swung my head from side to side and the woman scowled at me before turning back to John, who was beyond confused.

"I-I'm not Sherlock Holmes."

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She reached into his coat and pulled out his wallet. "Debit card. Name of S. Holmes."

"Yes, that's not actually mine either."

"A check, for five thousand pounds made out in name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"He…He gave me that t-to look after."

"Tickets for the theater, collected by you. Name of Holmes."

"Yes, okay. I realize what this looks like, but I'm not him."

I was about to interrupt, but the woman still had more.

"We heard it from your own mouth. 'I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone'."

John waved his head with a pained smile. "Did I really say that? I suppose there's no way in trying to persuade you I was doing an impression."

The last bit of that was rushed and I leaned forward to see why. The woman had a gun pointed to his head. I stifled a chuckle._ John? Sherlock Holmes?! Ha! If that's who he really is then I better go find that bank security officer 'cause we're both wearing dresses tonight!_

"I am Shan."

"Y-You're Shan?"

"No, John. She's from the ministry of magic, here to take your wand!"

I laughed and Shan pointed the revolver at me while John gave me a look like I was insane. I slowed my laughs until they were just chuckles, staring solidly at the gun barrel. Shan raised a brow at my behavior and waltzed over to me, yanking the hat off my head to grip my hair. She forcefully pulled my head back and pointed the gun at my temple.

"You're not afraid of death?"

"Oh! Where have I heard that line?….Ah! Right! Davy Jones! All you're missing is the tentacle beard!"

I laughed some more as the woman grew more angered and John mumbled to himself.

"Yup. She's lost it."

This caught Shan's attention. "'She'? You do not look like a woman."

I grew completely serious instantly. "And _you _don't look like an old grandma who gets her pleasure from sadistically dragging people into your hate-filled world just so you can get more facial cream to cover up those horrible wrinkles of yours."

Needless to say, she slapped me hard but I kept going. "Really? That's it? I've had fish slap me harder than you, and why should I fear death when I already know that there's no bullet in the first cartridge? You wouldn't have shot John-Sherlock-whatever, because you still don't have what you need. The location of whatever it is you're looking for. Isn't that right, mónu?" (hag)

This time, the butt of the gun hit me across the temple causing me to momentarily black out and drop the piece of glass I was holding as I tried to get my senses back. She was saying something, but her voice was fading in and out as she rounded back on John.

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companions, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?"

She pointed the gun at John and cocked it, him still being frightened by it and not taking my word that the first cartridge was empty. He freaked out and then she pulled the trigger.

"It tells you they're not really trying."

Shan reloaded the gun and pointed it at me, firing and hitting me in the leg. I grunted in pain, but nothing more than that as she turned back towards John with a smile.

"Dani!"

"Not blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now…Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain."

Shan walked over to something covered and pulled the cover off to reveal the ballista from the circus act.

"Everything in the West has it's price and the price for their lives; information."

The two henchmen grabbed my chair and placed it in front of the crossbow before grabbing Sarah and putting her next to me. I was calm as a cucumber, removing my shoes and wrestling my feet through the restraints while Sarah was freaking out.

"Where's the hairpin?"

_So it's a hairpin? Hm, must be very valuable. My guess is it's made out of either gold or jade. Both would make it very valuable along with whoever wore it._

"What?"

"The Empress' pin. Valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West and then one of our people was greedy. He took it back to London and you, Mr. Holmes have been searching."

"Please, please. Listen to me. I'm not…I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."

"I need a volunteer from the audience!"

"No, no. Please, please!"

She turned to Sarah and I. "Ah, thank you ladies. Yes. You'll both do very nicely. The question is, who should I get rid of first?"

She walked over to the cross bow and pointed it towards me. I kept calm, knowing that she was using scare tactics to see who would make John freak out more, but John didn't know and now the arrow was pointed at Sarah.

"Too bad. I wanted to get rid of the big mouth first, but Mr. Holmes seems to fancy this lady more."

She punctured the sandbag and I saw John sigh. "Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death defying act."

"Please!" John begged as Shan placed a black origami lotus flower on her shoulder.

"You've seen the act already. How dull for you. You know how it ends."

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"

"I don't believe you."

"You should, you know." _Well, look who joined the party. _"Sherlock Holmes is nothing like him."

Shan spun around, cocking her gun as Sherlock hid behind something to not get shot. I smirked as my feet were freed and felt like causing a disturbance.

"Hey, Sherlock!"

"Kind of busy at the moment, Dani."

"You're the one who wanted to know more about me!"

"Now's not the time!"

I smiled. "I assure you, Sherlock, now's the perfect time! Have you ever heard the legend about the only person to have escaped a North Korean holding facility?"

"What are you talking about? Very few have escaped North Korea, but escaped a holding facility?! Impossible!"

At this point, Shan was staring at me with wide eyes. "How do you know of the black panther?"

I smirked devilishly just as Sherlock knocked out the warrior, giving him Shan's full attention once again. Lifting my foot up towards my lap, I leaned over and pulled the blade I had attached to my leg out by my teeth. Shimmying it to my tied up hands, I cut through my bonds and seemingly disappeared. Sherlock knocked over the barrel that had a fire on it, snuffing out the flames and hiding him from sight, as a dark figure appeared behind Shan.

"Ever hear the saying, 'The rat who gnaws at the tail of the cat only invites destruction'?"

Shan quickly turned around, her gun pointed at me as I reached down to life up my shirt. There on my stomach, just barely visible in the remaining light, was the same tattoo of a black panther that I had shown Soo Lin Yao not long ago.

"Y-You! You're…Hēi bào." (black panther)

"Correct."

Shan finally fired off a shot, which I completely ignored as it zoomed past my head and ricocheted around the tunnel; missing John, Sarah, Sherlock, and myself. Shaking violently, Shan quickly began looking around for an escape when choking sounds came from behind me. I groaned, not satisfied that I had to let Shan escape because of my promise to Soo Lin. The moment I took my eyes off Shan, she ran off and I went to Sherlock's aide. I saw John lying on the ground still tied up, but I saw what he was doing and had to speak with Zhi Zhu before he was killed. I quickly came up behind the man and cut through the cloth he had wrapped around Sherlock's neck. He went to spin around, but I placed the knife against his neck and pinned his wrist behind his back painfully. Leaning close to his ear, I whispered my farewells to him.

"Soo Lin wished for your freedom so I shall give it to you. Ānxí ba, Zhi Zhu." (Rest in peace, spider.)

I covered his mouth and slit his throat as the crossbow went off and plunged an arrow into his chest, knocking the man out of my arms as I dodged it. Sherlock gave me a look; having not seen me kill the man before the arrow hit him, but wondering all the same why I hadn't helped him earlier. He then remembered Sarah when she let to a relieved and frightened sob, pausing only once to watch Shan run off. I heard John grunt and went over to him to cut of his rope. As Sarah got more hysterical, John decided to lay a joke on her despite the tense situation.

"Don't worry. Next date won't be like this."

"Better hope not John, or you'll never get another girl."

He scowled at me, but sighed and dropped it. It had been a rough couple of days and neither of us felt like pushing it. Not soon enough, the police came and Sarah got checked out by an ambulance while I managed to slip away, telling Dimmock to inform Sherlock and calling myself a cab back to Baker Street to lick my wounds.

* * *

It was morning now and Sherlock and John stood over the dining table as they went over the cipher.

"So, 'Nine mill'."

"Million."

"'Million'. Yes. 'Nine million, for Jade Pin. Dragon Den Black Tramway'."

"An instruction to all their London operatives. A message. What they were trying to reclaim."

"A jade pin."

"Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the tramway, their London hideout."

"No hang on. A hair pin worth nine million pounds?"

"Apparently." Sherlock took a sip from his mug.

"Why so much?"

"Depends who owned it."

After heading to the bank, Sherlock went to inform Eddie's secretary about the pin while John headed upstairs to claim the check from Sebastian. Filling it out, Sebastian handed it to him.

"That's the second check I had to give out today."

"Second?"

"Yeah. Had to pay the security checker I assigned to help as well. Quite and odd guy, but he did a decent job. I probably shouldn't of hired him either since you figured out the same thing he did. He really climbed up onto the balcony?

"Nail a plank across your window and all your problems are over."

"Right. I'd rather take the other man's advice and put in a better security system with window latches."

Sebastian handed John the check and he thanked him before leaving with Sherlock back to Baker Street. In the taxi, John frowned.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm."

"What happened to Dani? We haven't seen her since Detective Inspector Dimmock said she left the tramway. You think something's happened to her?"

"I'm sure she's fine, John."

They were silent the rest of the way back and when they pulled up to the curb and came in through the door, John gave a worried glance at the Dani's door.

"I'm going to check on her. You coming, Sherlock?"

He looked behind him to find Sherlock no where in sight. Spinning back around, he saw Sherlock already halfway to the door.

"Are you coming, John?"

John smirked and shook his head at his flat mate. _He's worried. That's a first._ As they came up to the door, John went to knock when Sherlock's hand grabbed his wrist.

"Stop."

"What? Why?"

"Look."

Sherlock pointed to the ground outside the door and John saw the small trail of blood splatter on the hardwood floors. Eyes wide, he remembered what happened in the tramway before Sherlock had come.

"My God…Sherlock, she was shot before! In the tunnels! She said some things about Shan and she shot her in the leg! I completely forgot! Sherlock, we have to do something! She could be bleeding to death in there if she's not already…"

John trailed off, growing paler each second when Sherlock pulled out a small case from his coat pocket and began picking the lock. Seconds passed, feeling like hours to the duo before Sherlock finally unlocked the door and the two of them rushed into the flat. All was silent as they looked upon the sleeping figure on the couch.

Dani was lying with her left leg over the back of the couch, an arm lifting her shirt a little to expose part of the tattoo on her stomach, and the other over her eyes. Her mouth was open slightly and her hair was a disaster. She was completely at ease though, wearing nothing more than a wife beater and a pair of boxers, surprisingly. What also caught their eye were the bandages wrapped around her head and right thigh. Red stained the one bandage on her leg at which John frowned.

"God Dani."

_Too stubborn to go see a doctor and ask for help. Reminds me of someone else I know. _John gave Sherlock a glance with a smirk when he saw his friend staring at Dani with what seemed to him like concern. Suddenly, an alarm went off from a clock sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. It only rang once before being impaled with a knife and falling with a crash to the floor. Dani was now sitting up and holding her head.

"Damn. Broke another one."

"Then why set it if you're just going to destroy it?"

John looked at Sherlock in shock, wonder what in the world told him to announce their presence in the flat to Dani. To his surprise, Dani just ignored the fact that they were in her flat and answered back in a bored voice.

"Because I can't sleep all day…I need food."

She got up and half stumbled, half limped to the kitchen calling out over her shoulder.

"You two want tea? An omelet? Bagel?"

"Nothing for me."

"Bull, Sherlock. Pick one or I'll pick for you."

John chuckled while Sherlock frowned before answering.

"Tea and a bagel."

"Good. John?"

"An omelet sounds good."

She finished fairly quickly, a bagel with cream cheese hanging from her lips as she brought back the food and set it on the coffee table. They ate in relative silence before Dani spoke up over the rim of her cup.

"Sherlock, I've already got trackers on her as well as people on the inside who know me. I'll know the moment she thinks about setting foot back in London. Stop being bothered."

"I'm not bothered."

She smirked and shook her head, wincing as she did so before abruptly standing up and walking to a bag on the ground. It was Raz's bag full of spray paint that she'd never managed to return to him. Pulling out a can, she pulled open a window and leaned out, spraying something on the outside wall. Returning the can to the bag when she finished, Dani sat back down and finished off her bagel.

"What did you do?"

"Simply gave someone a message."

On the outside wall, two Chinese characters were spelled out in black spray paint along with a sketchy black panther baring it's teeth at the world. _I am, after all, a cat that hides in the shadows._


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the wait, but now you get to see a bit of mycroft and dani and even a little irene :) hope you enjoy it, and please review!_  
_**

* * *

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

"What the devil-"

I glared up at my ceiling as I heard the loud sounds echo through out the building. Something was going on and I felt horrid for missing out on the action. _Besides, for all I know there's some maniac wielding a gun and shooting Sherlock. Wouldn't want that to happen. He's too interesting._ I smirked and grabbed my gun, loading it and cocking it before turning to Rüde.

"Well then, looks like I'm off. Look after the place, would ya?"

I walked out of my flat just as John walked in and he turned to me as I climbed the stairs with my gun.

"Dani?"

"Hey, John. Just looking to see what the shooting's about. You have any idea?"

"Well, I have one…"

He trailed off and we walked into Sherlock's flat as he began shooting another round. Plugging his ears, John hurried up the stairs and began yelling as I trailed behind him at a slower pace.

"What the _hell _are you doing?"

"Bored."

"What?"

"Bored!"

"No-"

John was cut off as he replaced his hands over his ears and Sherlock began shooting the wall for no apparent reason. Sherlock yelled that he was bored two more times, spinning around and shooting the wall, while I just kind of stared blankly. The wall in particular had a yellow smiley face painted on it in what looked like the cipher's yellow spray paint from the last case. He stopped shooting suddenly and handed John the gun, which he properly disarmed.

_Bang!_

John jumped in surprise and Sherlock turned around to look at me with wide eyes, as I lowered the smoking gun in my hands and pointed at the smiley face on the wall.

"It needed a nose."

Obviously angry with me, John snatched my gun as well and Sherlock fell on the couch with a smile.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them."

"So you take it out on the wall? And Dani, I expected you to not go along with his craziness."

I shrugged and sat down on a chair, crossing my legs.

"You must not know me that well."

"Besides, John, the wall had it coming."

_How, I wonder. Must've done something horrible to get on Sherlock's bad side._ I felt my lip twitch up in amusement as John asked Sherlock about some Russian case. According to Sherlock, it was just a simple domestic murder and not worth his time. John didn't care for that answer, but I nodded in understanding. In the business I'm in, even I know I can't take every case, so I only take those that interest me. _It's good to know Sherlock thinks the same._

"Anything in? I'm starving."

I listened as John went into the kitchen, but caught Sherlock smirk ever so slightly out of the corner of my eye. I heard the fridge open and John stifle a curse, opening and closing it one more time.

"There's a head…A severed head!"

"Just tea, for me thanks."

I immediately perked up and stood, going into the kitchen as John exited.

"No, there's a severed head in the fridge."

"Yes."

"A bloody head!"

"Actually, it's not that bloody at all!" I shouted from the kitchen, listening for John's reaction.

"Wha-See what you've done, Sherlock! You've corrupted Dani too!"

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind, do you? And how is it my fault that Dani wished to examine it?"

"It was merely a simple case of curiosity on my part, John." I said as I returned to the kitchen. "What are you doing with it anyway, Sherlock?"

"I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

I cocked my head in confusion as John went and sat down in his usual spot.

"Yes."

"'A Study in Pink.' Nice."

"Well, you know. A pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did ya like it?"

"What is _it_, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sherlock waved his hand around.

"It's a blog John writes, nothing important. And, uuum…no."

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

"Flattered?" _Uh-oh. I know that look. John did something on the 'Things That Make Sherlock Angry' list. _"'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.'"

_Ohhh! He's done it now!_ "Now hold on a minute. I didn't mean tha-"

"Oh, you meant spectacularly innocent in a _nice way_. Look. It doesn't matter to me who's prime minister or who's sleeping with whom-"

"Or that the Earth goes around the sun."

_Gosh John. You really are getting on his bad side aren't you? _It was interesting seeing these two interact like this, bantering back and forth like children or even a married couple. They had completely forgotten I was here and all I needed now was a bag of popcorn.

"Oh, not that again. It's not important!"

"Not important? Its primary school stuff, _how_ can you not know that?"

"If I ever did, I've deleted it." Sherlock pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes in exasperation.

"Deleted it?"

"Listen." Sherlock said as he sat up and pointed to his temple. "This is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. _Really_ useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. That makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

There was absolute silence for maybe a second before John blurted out, "But it's the solar system!"

"Oh, hell, what does that matter?! So we go around the sun! If we went around the moon or 'round and 'round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots. Put that in your blog. Or better still; stop inflicting your opinions on the world."

I blinked in surprise as Sherlock turned around and faced the couch in a fetal position. Everything was quiet once again and I glanced back and forth between the two without moving my head. I knew better than anyone that movement catches human attention and I'd rather not catch the frustrated or angry looks John and Sherlock would give me if we locked eyes. Suddenly, John stood up and began putting on his coat.

"Where're you going?"

Sherlock had turned his head around as John started walking out the door.

"Out. I need some air."

The sound of him and Mrs. Hudson running into each other on the stairs drifted up from outside the door and soon Mrs. Hudson came in with a green bag of groceries.

"Yo ho. You two have a little domestic?"

"That's what it sounded like from this angle, Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh, Dani! I didn't even see you! Have you been here the whole time?"

I smiled politely and nodded as she went off into the kitchen. It was then I remembered the head in the fridge.

"Oh, and stay out of the fridge Mrs. Hudson! Sherlock put an…experiment in there."

"Will do, dear!"

I nodded and I thought Sherlock turned to me, but he just got up and walked over his coffee table to watch John leave, through the window.

"Oh, it's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more."

"Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful…Isn't it _hateful_?"

I raised a brow, but silently agreed with him. I hadn't had any notification from Nick about any jobs and nothing I'd received from past clients were any fun.

"Oh I'm sure something will turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."

"Can't come too soon."

Mrs. Hudson began leaving the flat when she stopped and turned around.

"Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall?"

I glanced at Sherlock as he smirked and then back at Mrs. Hudson as she rounded on me.

"You wouldn't have had anything to do with this, would you Dani?"

I winced. She reminded me so much of my mother that I knew I could've lied to her in that moment.

"I just thought it'd look better with a nose…"

She huffed. "I expected more from you, Dani. I'll be adding this to both your rents!"

My mouth dropped in protest, but one look from Mrs. Hudson had me lowering my head submissively. She left and I stood up and walked towards the window to look out onto the street below.

"You know, Sherlock, I think you're right."

"About what?"

"About the world."

He opened his mouth to say something more, when there was a sudden explosion and heat flooded through the window. Afghanistan flashed back to me in an instant; the bombs, the grenades, the gunshots, the death. Everything hit me all at once and as the heat burst through the window, I instinctively covered my face and twisted my body around as I threw myself to the ground. My ears were ringing as an aftereffect of the explosion and I could feel the burns across my forearms, happy that _that_ was my only major injury. Sherlock was lying on the ground in front of me and I army crawled over the debris towards him since I was still disoriented from the blast and standing would be a bad idea.

I was next to him now and called out to him, but I couldn't even hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears. I nudged him, ignoring the burning sensation of my arm, until he rolled over and faced me. He said something, but I shook my head and rolled onto my back so I was facing the ceiling. I told him I couldn't hear him and closed my eyes to focus on the pain in my arms and back.

It was an old trick I'd learned from a stranger whose name and face I could no longer remember. All I needed to do was focus on the pain and it would soon become insignificant. As I did that, I soon began hearing an inconsistent snapping near my ears. I scowled and opened my eyes to find Sherlock leaning over me and snapping his fingers.

"Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah. Now can you stop snapping?"

He seemed satisfied enough and brushed the dust off his clothes. I sighed and stood up, brushing any loose dirt from my hair when Sherlock grabbed my wrist. I winced and frowned at him.

"Let go. That hurts."

"I would expect it to. You have second degree burns along your forearms."

I tugged my wrist from him and began heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To my flat. I have a first aid kit there and I need to check any damages."

"You never finished."

"Huh?" I turned to face his back while he faced the window.

"You said I was right. About the world. What did you mean?"

He turned his head as though staring at the wall next to him, but I knew he was watching my reaction from his peripherals. So I turned away and spoke over my shoulder.

"What you said earlier to John and Mrs. Hudson. Everyone fills their head with useless things; drama, stress, hope, fantasies. Even if the world _did_ revolve around the moon or something else, it wouldn't make a difference because we'd still be where we are now. The world would still be quiet and peaceful while none of them suspect a thing about what really happens behind closed doors. People cheating on others, stealing from others, _torturing_ _others_. Every one of those things makes this world the disgusting place that it is but without that…we'd be out of a job, not wouldn't we, Sherlock?"

I smiled painfully and walked down the stair to my flat. It wasn't that bad; a broken window, glass and debris on the floor. Nothing much, but I was about to make it worse.

Closing and locking the door, I began grabbing anything I could and throwing it. Smashing glasses, vases of flowers from Mrs. Hudson, flipping the couch, tearing apart the cushions; anything and everything in that room was trashed and destroyed, save Rüde. Breathing hard, my crazed eyes landed on the kitchen. Anything glass was thrown on the floor and cabinets and cupboards were punched through. The only thing left standing was the refrigerator before I made my way to the bedroom. My clothes were thrown and torn, the bed was stripped of it's blankets which were tossed in the fireplace and set aflame, and I had grabbed two framed photographs; one of my mother and the other of all of us in 221. I went to throw them in the fireplace as well, but I couldn't do it.

The picture of my mother was one that I had kept with me even through my time served in Afghanistan. I couldn't do that to her and the other one…The other one was my life now. Sherlock, John, Mrs. Hudson. All of them had gotten close to me in the short time I had been here, and every one of them were important to me now. Mrs. Hudson was my second mother. John, my nagging older brother and Sherlock…

"What is he? More than a brother but…what?"

I slumped to the floor and stared up at the white ceiling. A flash of a dark room with grey walls and a pure white ceiling; the only thing I could stare at as I sat bleeding, bound to a cold metal chair as two figures walked in through a door. My breathing suddenly returned to me and I shook my head; a hand pressed against my face.

"No…No, no, no, no, no! I can't have another relapse! I can't, I can't!"

I scrambled to the bedroom and began digging recklessly through my pack for what I was looking for. I found part of what I was looking for and tried to hold the lighter steady as I lit the cigarette.

"Come on, come on."

Finally it lit and I took a deep, stuttering breath and let it out. My rattled nerves were settling down and I abandoned the other half of my search. _I wouldn't resort to _that_. Never again, I promised myself. I can't let a little flashback of Korea get to me so easily…What Sherlock said though…it got to me. I mean, _really_ got to me. I nearly gave him my life story right there. I need to be more careful._ I took another drag of my cigarette and exhaled the smoke into the room before I stood up and headed to the shower.

Ice cold water rained down on me, putting out my cigarette, but I hardly cared. The scars littered across my body burned and this was my only other option to stifling the ache without resorting to _that_. I soon relaxed, ignoring the involuntary shivers until I could no longer stand it and stepped out. I walked to the bedroom in the buff and found a pair of jeans and a sleeveless v-neck hoodie to put on over a wife beater and a pair of boxers (which I've always found very comfortable, believe it or not). Then, I went to the unedifying task of cleaning up the mess both I, and the explosion, had made.

* * *

John pushed his way through the police officer in front of his flat and entered, calling for Sherlock the whole way up the stairs.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!"

He stopped upon entering the flat to find Sherlock perfectly fine and plucking at his violin. Sitting across from him, equally calm, was Mycroft Holmes; Sherlock's older brother.

"John."

Snapping out of his daze, John spoke. "I saw it on the tele, are you okay?"

"Me? What? Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently. If anything, I thought you'd be more worried about-"

A half shout came from the door and Dani appeared in the doorway, looking a bit frazzled with bandages from her elbow to mid-finger.

"Sherlock. I seemed to have left my gun here and I was wondering if…"

She trailed off when she saw who was also in the room and gave a wicked smirk to Mycroft as he glared in return.

"Hey, teddy bear. How's the diet working out for you?"

"Fine. Have another relapse?"

She jerked in response. "Not quite, but what are you doing here? I don't need to go find the butter sock, do I?"

He twitched and shook his head. "No. I merely wished to speak with my brother about something."

The room went dead quiet for a moment and one could see the tension sparking between Dani and Mycroft. Clearing his throat, John dared to interrupt their squabble.

"Ah, um, you two…know each other?"

Mycroft, obviously the adult out of the two, released a sigh. "Yes. I had the _pleasure_ of meeting her one day when she interfered with something she shouldn't have."

"Bull. I had every right to be there and you're just prissy because I got what you couldn't and you had to pay me to get it back."

Dani rolled her eyes and walked over to grab her gun, replacing the bullets and stuffing it in the back of her jeans. John and Sherlock both wanted to know more about Mycroft and Dani's relationship, but Sherlock wanted to hear it from Dani's mouth without his brother interfering.

"I can't."

He quickly caught Mycroft's attention. "Can't?"

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time."

"Nevermind your usual trivia. This is of national importance. Perhaps you can get through to him, John."

"What?"

John obviously did not appreciate getting dragged into the two brothers' fight.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?"

"No, no, no, no, no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections…Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?"

"I'm personally rooting for Park Geun-hye. She seems to know what she's doing and it'd be interesting to see how they deal with a female president."

All eyes turned to Dani, although Mycroft looked displeased about her for bringing it up. She was currently searching Sherlock's living room and as she lifted up his skull, she found what she was looking for.

"Ah-ha! Sherlock? You don't mind if I-"

"Not at all. In fact, I encourage it. Smoke."

She smiled and lit up a cigarette from the box that was hidden under the skull and John sighed.

"I thought you'd quit?"

"She did, until a few hours ago. Was a bad one, was it?"

She frowned at Mycroft who smirked, thinking he'd won when she said, "Be careful, teddy. I can still singe off your eyebrows like I did last time."

John glanced at Mycroft in surprise while Sherlock smirked, happy that he knew someone that could counter his brother if it were needed.

"Well, Sherlock, a case like this requires leg work."

"I'm sorry John, how was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa."

"Oh yes, of course."

John seemed a bit confused. "How did-Uh, never mind."

He sat down and Dani leaned over and told his quietly.

"Your clothes are ruffled, your hair's a disaster, and you keep rubbing your neck to try and get rid of the ache. Hence, you were sleeping on the sofa. A lilo would've been slightly more comfortable."

"Uh, thanks Dani."

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became _pals_. What's he like to live with, hellish I imagine?"

"Not as much as it would be living with you."

Dani piped up and John quickly tried to ease the rising tension. "Well, I'm never bored."

"Good. That's good, isn't it."

Mycroft stood and went to hand Sherlock the file, but he wouldn't take it so Mycroft gave it to John.

"Andrew West. Known as 'Westie' to his friends. Civil servant. Found dead on the tracks of Battersea station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?"

"That seems the logical assumption."

"But?"

"But?"

"But you always have something more, teddy. Just give him the rest of the information."

"My, Dani. You really are in a rush today."

She scowled. "Only to get away from you."

"I see. Well, John, the MOD is working on a new missile defense system; the Bruce-Partington program it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

"That wasn't very clever."

Sherlock and Dani gave a smirk of amusement as John too, got into the habit of being snarky with Mycroft.

"That's not the only copy, but it is secret and missing."

"Top secret?"

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't risk it falling into the wrong hands. You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Think it over. Oh, and Dani?"

"What?"

"I have a few things for you as well. Seeing how you hacked into my security, I assume you owe me a few favors."

She scoffed. "It's not hacking if I had your access codes."

"Yes, well, here."

He handed three envelopes over to her and she flipped through them, scanning the addresses on the front. With each flip, her face grew more and more frustrated. She tore open the first one and read it over.

"That damned old man. I told him that was going to get him sent to jail. Fool doesn't want to listen then asks me for help? Idiot."

They all gave each other curious looks and she tore open the next one, growling as she read it over.

"Like hell I'm going back there! Mycroft! What the hell did you tell them?!"

"Nothing. They decided this themselves. I told them you wouldn't go, but they were very adamant about you being there."

She clicked her tongue and angrily ripped open the last letter. Her eyes widened as they scanned over the paper once, then twice. Her hands started shaking and she gripped the paper tightly in her fist.

"Why didn't you tell me, Mycroft?"

"I just did, Dani."

She let out a breath, putting out her cigarette, and turned to him with an impassive look. "Who did it?"

"We're unsure. He was doing a follow up on one of the cases, but we believe this is the man."

He pulled out a photograph of a dark skinned man. He was dressed in robes and a turban, the background obviously Iranian, with a sniper rifle propped up against one shoulder. She looked up at Mycroft as he gave her the one look she always hated, pity.

"I'm sorry, Dani."

"Don't be. This man is the one who's going to be sorry. He's in London I assume?"

"Yes, I'll keep you informed." She nodded. "Goodbye, John. I'll see you soon."

"Ah, right."

John kept watching Dani in concern and Sherlock began recklessly playing his violin just to annoy Mycroft as he walked out the door. When he stopped, all eyes turned to Dani.

"So, uh…'teddy bear'?"

"Yeah. Cute as a toy, but in real life; a nightmare."

John nodded and they moved on into silence when Sherlock locked eyes with her.

"What were in the letters?"

"Sherlock!"

"It's fine, John. He'd just find out anyway…The first was a friend of mine who did something stupid, even though I told him not to, and got thrown into jail. Now he's asking me for bail money. Too bad I'm not going to help him out. He needs to learn a lesson…The second one was from the Republic of Korea asking me to attend a military meeting to help them with a few things involving the upcoming election, which is total crap. I've told them a million times that I'm not going back there especially since my name hasn't been cleared."

"Cleared?"

She sighed with a look neither of them had seen before. It was weariness. Like she had seen everything wrong with the world and it would all fall apart with a single breath. It made her look older, more tired, alone.

"I can't tell you now. I'm sorry."

An apology was the last thing they expected from her, but even Sherlock knew better than to push the issue on this one.

"And the other letter?"

"…My informant…Nick…He hasn't been contacting me with job information or anything, but it wasn't the first time so I wasn't worried. He worked under Mycroft, which is how I got the access codes. Seems he was killed. Shot through the head once by a sniper miles away. He was a good friend. The only one I had, really. Joked around a lot and always teased me. I guess I got too close to him. Happens every time…"

"Dani…"

John was concerned for her. After everything that had happened to him in Afghanistan, he could only imagine everything she's been through since she was actually on the front lines. Plus, with her being for hire and traveling the world, being connected to Mycroft and all the things she's done; John's surprised she hasn't broken down. _But didn't Mycroft mention something about a relapse? What was that about? Does Dani do drugs?_

"Dani. Are you okay? I mean, you just had someone close to you die. Do you want someone to stay with you?"

She stared back at him blankly. "No. I probably won't be sleeping anyway. Later, John. Sherlock."

A phone went off and Sherlock dug through his coat before pulling out his cell. It wasn't more than a minute before he hung up and went to grab his coat.

"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?"

John gave him a look and stood up. "If you want me to."

"Of course. I'd be lost without my blogger. Dani, you're coming too."

"Sorry, Sherlock. I can't. I have something to take care of."

He looked at her, questioning why she would actually say no to him, but the look in her eyes. It was the look of a predator on a hunt and as much as he would like her with him to help, he knew he couldn't persuade her to stop whatever it was she was planning to do.

"Alright then. John!"

He turned and dashed out while John stayed there for a moment in shock._ Sherlock let her stay. That's never happened before. He'd normally just drag her with him anyway…He's changing. Slowly, but changing nonetheless. I wonder how long it'll be before they get together. I should start a pot with Lestrade after he meets her._ John smiled to himself, but hurried out the door after Sherlock anyway; giving Dani a comforting pat on the shoulder. _Ah! I completely forgot to ask her about the burns! Let's hope she'll be a bit more willing to talk when I get back and hopefully, she won't get herself into too much trouble. If she's anything like Sherlock though, I know that's doubtful._

* * *

When I'd gotten back to my flat, I had this squirming feeling in my stomach. It was screaming at me that something bad was going to happen, but I ignored it. My mind was completely focused on finding the man in the photograph that Mycroft had given me and I couldn't deal with unwanted distractions right now.

I hurried over to where I'd left my laptop and pulled up a chair before I began scouring everything I could for information. I put in a set of headphones and let loud music flood my senses and block everything around me. I also pulled up my old contacts list and began asking for any information they had. As I was waiting for that, I sent an e-mail to the morons in Korea about my nonattendance to their meeting, when info began flooding in.

I now had photographs, e-mails, phone numbers, and letters. I even had a name: Asad Mahdavi. All I really needed now, was to find out where he was currently staying and get rid of him.

I scowled and leaned back in my chair as I rubbed my face. _God, what am I doing? Am I really going to let him get to me like that?_

"Of course you are, because you've made yourself vulnerable. You got close to people when you used to stay far away and now…you're paying for it."

I slammed my fist against the kitchen table and pulled out another cigarette. I lit it and took a deep drag, disappointed in myself for turning back to smoking for the day. My mother had always been against it so I stayed away from it as well, but all I needed was one bad day and I was hooked one the stuff.

"Although, I suppose smoking is better than drinking."

One of my headphones was gently pulled out and I froze for a moment as a woman spoke in my ear.

"I don't know about that. While I like both, I think drinking is better because it's easier to share."

She took my cigarette and smoked it once before putting it back in my mouth. As my brain finally clicked back into motion, I stood up and grabbed my chair to use as a weapon. Woman or not, I knew better to be fooled by appearances; I myself being a good reason. Women could be just as good as men when it came to fighting and this one proved my point as she dodged the chair, but came closer as she did so.

I couldn't hit her with the chair now that she was directly in front of me, so I dropped it and ducked to the floor; kicking my leg out to trip her. She dodged again and smirked at me.

"Oh? Not one for being charmed, are you? Most men fall quite easily to my appeal."

I sighed. Sure, she was beautiful for a woman and I could see how some _guys_ might fall for her, but obviously I wasn't quite in that category.

"Sorry. I don't go for women."

She smiled seductively. "Well, I'm going to have to change that, now aren't I?"

She didn't bother charging or anything of that sort and I was confused for a moment. Of course, in that moment she was able to get quite close to me and she slapped me, surprisingly. I blinked at the contact, cheek burning, before turning back to her as she crashed her lips into my own. _What the hell?! _I went to shove her away, but something pricked my neck and she willingly released me before I could.

"I told you I don't go for women! Kissing me's not going to make a…difference."

My vision started swaying dangerously and I soon found myself kneeling on the ground. I had dealt with poisons and such before, but this was something new. She knelt in front of me, surprising me a little as she caressed my cheek.

"What's this? Seems like you have good resistance to drugs. Every man I've used that on has always gone down hard, but you're barely on the ground."

I smacked her hand away and swung a punch at her face. The smug and eager look she had on was really starting to bother me. Unfortunately, she didn't take the hit to her jaw very well and pulled out what looked like a whip from…well, I'd rather not know where she got it from.

She kicked me to the ground and I couldn't move from the drug as she hit me a few times with the whip. My eyes glazed over as the pain brought back memories of my torture in North Korea. They had beaten me within an inch of my life everyday because I wouldn't give them the answers they wanted. The pain I was receiving now was nothing compared to what I went through back then.

The woman stopped what she was doing and turned my face with her foot. Her eyes softened slightly underneath the tough exterior she put up. Letting my face drop, she sighed.

"It's a shame that someone would do such things to you. You've got such a cute face but you've obviously seen quite a bit to have blanked out on me like that. Oh well. Sorry, all I need is a picture."

She took a photograph of the fireplace and set something down in front of it. I tried to get up, now out of my foggy memories, but the moment I got my arms and legs under me they gave up and I fell back to the floor. She looked at me as she headed to the open window.

"It'll wear off by tomorrow, cutie, and do try to keep yourself from choking on your own vomit."

She left and I suddenly realized how sick I felt as the room continued spinning. I was useless at the moment and knew there was nothing I could do until someone found me, so I just stayed on the ground and tried desperately not to let my eyes slip closed. _I've got to stay awake. They'll find me. John and…Sherlock._


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry about the wait, but here's the next chapter! It'll give you a little insight as to what Sherlock thinks about Dani, and hopefully, he's not out of character. I tried my best, so tell me what you think!**

* * *

Sherlock had just opened the envelope and found the phone, discovering that everyone in the police station reads John's blog and that someone had painstakingly gone to great lengths to find a phone similar to the one in the 'Study in Pink' case. Turning it on, he found it had a message.

"_You have one new message."_

Following that were five blips.

"Is that it?"

"No, that's not it."

Attached to the message, was a photograph. One that was eerily familiar at that.

"Well, what are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips."

"It's a warning."

"A warning?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again. I've seen this place before…Dani."

Sherlock started walking out the door and John tried to catch up.

"H-Hang on, what's going to happen again? And what's this got to do with Dani?"

"Boom!"

Sherlock made some hand signals and passed the phone over to John as they left the Yard.

"Look there John. On the mantle. The skull."

"Skull? Wait, isn't that-"

"Yes, and Dani had gone back to her flat when we left. No one would be able to take this photograph without her knowing, so that means…"

He trailed off to let John come to his own conclusions.

"Something's happened to Dani."

"Exactly."

After the taxi had pulled up, Sherlock and John hurried to 221C and knocked on the door.

"Dani! Dani! We need you to let us in!"

Sherlock pressed his ear to the door and heard slow shuffles on what sounded like the floor as well as slurred murmurs. He frowned and turned to Mrs. Hudson's door.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

"Yes, what is it Sherlock?"

"We need the spare key to Dani's room."

"Good heavens, what for? She should be in there already."

Sherlock grabbed her shoulders lightly. "Mrs. Hudson, we don't have time. Someone may have broken in to her room and we don't know what condition she's in right now, but she is obviously unable to answer the door. So give us the spare key."

Mrs. Hudson looked absolutely frightened after that and she hurriedly shuffled back into her room and brought them the spare.

"Oh dear. I hope she's okay. You'll tell me Sherlock, won't you?"

"Yes, yes. Now move."

He took the keys from her fumbling hands and John gently guided her back to her room while Sherlock impatiently unlocked the door and quickly stormed the flat.

"Dani!"

He opened the next door and spotted Dani lying on the ground, trying to get up. She was moving unnaturally, he noticed, and rushed to her side helping her stand. She was extremely unsteady and John had to run over to help him lay her down on the couch. They went to put her on her back, but she immediately protested so they rolled her over onto her stomach as John looked her over.

"Her pupils are dilated and her heart rate's up a bit, but other than that, there's nothing else wrong that I can see Sherlock."

"But why didn't she want to be put on her back?"

His hand reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt, lifting it to find a few red welts and multiple older scars littering her back.

"My God." Lestrade muttered.

"Dani. Who could've done this to you?"

John gently brushed back her short hair and her unsteady gaze looked up to his. She moved her hand then and began tapping her fingers on the side of the couch in different patterns. Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Morse code. John!"

"I know, Sherlock. Let's see…'I can't tell you now about the old ones.'…'but a woman snuck in the window'…'we fought very little'…'she's not experienced'…'she thought I was a guy and tried to seduce me'?"

"Well I can see why…"

"Shut up, Lestrade. Keep going. What did she look like?"

"She says, 'short, brown hair, red lipstick, pearl white teeth. The perfect woman if you were a man.'"

"Did she say her name or who she was working for?"

"'No. She caught me off guard and drugged me. Then her smug face got on my nerves so I punched her.'"

Sherlock and John smiled at that, and she soon brought her hand up and pointed at the fireplace. Confused, Sherlock looked back over at her as she tapped out one last word before falling unconscious.

"What'd she say, John?"

"She said…'clue'."

Sherlock quickly stood up from beside her and walked over to the fireplace to find a pair of shoes while Lestrade questioned John.

"So, who's this?"

"Dani Evans. She just moved in recently, is an ex-army captain, and has been traveling the word with no real job except being for hire. She actually helped Sherlock and I on the 'Blind Banker' case and has stuck around ever since."

"So she's the one you mentioned? The 'strong headed woman' who's fooled you three times with disguises and is possibly on par with Sherlock?" John nodded. "Well then, I'd give them a couple months."

John smiled. "That's what I thought you'd say. I was going to give it a year. They're both pretty strong headed and they barely recognize feelings, let alone ones for each other. But who knows?"

Lestrade nodded with a smile just as someone's phone went off, making them all jump. Sherlock stood up from where he'd been crouched over the shoes and answered it, putting it on speaker so they could all hear.

"Hello?"

Sobs from a woman drifted from the phone. "H-Hello…s-s-sexy."

"Who is this?"

"I-I sent y-you a little p-present. Just t-ta say 'hi'."

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I-I'm not crying. I'm typing…And this s-stupid bitch is reading it out."

"The curtain rises."

John looked confused and slightly disturbed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, what did you mean?"

"I'd been expecting this for some time…Although, I hadn't expected this to happen."

He gave a short glance at Dani on the couch, hardly noticeable, but John had seen it.

"Twelve h-hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock. Or I'm going to be s-so naughty."

Sherlock started walking out the door and John's eyes widened when he realized what was happening.

"Sherlock! What about Dani?!"

Sherlock paused for a moment but continued. "She'll be fine. I'll alert Mrs. Hudson. Now hurry up, John!"

John sighed and Lestrade gave a look at the woman unconscious on the couch with a smile.

"I say three months tops."

With that, they all left the flat and went to find out what secrets were held within the shoes.

* * *

_It was dark. The only light being that shined at me from the figures above. Loud yells and chants echoed in the night and I was whipped by someone on the back. Turning, I saw the woman standing there with a smirk on her face._

"_Hurry up and fight, cutie. You don't have much of a choice anyway, remember?"_

_I heard the cocking of a gun and turned to face my opponent. There, standing across from me was Nick and the moment he laid eyes on me, he backed up and began shaking his head, yelling._

"_No! I won't fight her! I wo-"_

Bang!

_I watched as he fell to the muddied ground. A single gun shot wound to the head. The person who pulled the trigger was Asad. His smirked and then pointed the gun at the next person who was thrown in, leaving me no chance to react to Nick's death. I closed my eyes and readied myself to fight the next person. _No matter what,_ I told myself. _No matter what I will fight him. If only to save him from his fate._ Opening my eyes, I fell backwards to the ground; mud splashing up onto my hand and face as I shook._

"_S-Sherlock?"_

"_I'm sorry, Dani." He said as he stepped closer. "I can't afford to die."_

_He came at me and I fought him. Every punch, every kick brought me closer to my own self destruction and when I finally stopped, Sherlock was on the ground and my hands were covered in blood. _His_ blood. Someone patted my cheek and the woman's voice whispered in my ear._

"_Good job, cutie. You've just killed Sherlock Holmes."_

I woke up breathing hard. A cold sweat covering my body as I quickly stood. I was unsteady, swaying back and forth with little to no balance as I hurried out of the flat. I wasn't recognizing anything. Everything was spinning and mixing with the shadows, distorting my vision into something from my nightmares. I suddenly spotted something recognizable and ran to it, knocking my hip into a small hallway table painfully in the process. Grabbing the handle, I twisted it and nearly fell into the room.

John rushed over to me and held me up while Mrs. Hudson went into the kitchen to fix something to calm me down. Neither of those things mattered to me now though. The only thing that mattered was the curly haired man sitting in a chair with his face pressed to a microscope. I felt the weight fall off my body and I slumped forward, startling John.

"H-Hey! Dani! You okay?!"

I started laughing. Quietly at first and then growing louder as John lead me to the couch. I couldn't help it. It was just too funny that I would get so worried about Sherlock all because of a drug induced nightmare.

"She's hysterical."

That combined with the look John gave me only made me laugh harder. _Hysterical?! If only you knew! _I continued to laugh until someone slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side at the contact and I blinked a few times before facing my assailant. Grey eyes stared back into my own and Sherlock took a step back and turned towards his microscope.

"She's fine now, John."

"If you say so…but I'm going to double check, okay?"

Sherlock ignored him and I just stared at his back when John knelt in front of me. He took my wrists to check my pulse and then put his hand to my head to check for fever. I scowled and shoved his hand away.

"I'm fine, John."

"No you're not. You were just laughing like a maniac!"

"I just found something funny and the drugs that woman gave me were messing with my system. Okay? It's not like I'm losing my sanity or anything. Now what did you find, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked back at me in question while John sighed and stepped away from me.

"Who says I found anything?"

I rolled my eyes. "I do. That woman left something behind and I know you've already analyzed it so why don't you fill me in?"

"They were shoes. The owner is one Carl Powers."

"The champion swimmer from 1989 who was claimed to have drowned?"

"Yes. The police never found his shoes, even though I tried to get them interested. He had eczema, which I discovered from skin flakes on the shoelaces."

I nodded and closed my eyes in thought as I tapped my fingers. "So whoever did this started young. Is there anything else? John's giving you looks."

Sherlock glared at John for ruining the surprise. "Yes, actually. While you were out, the police discovered an envelope addressed to me in the building across the street. Most likely, it was the same woman who attacked you who left it there."

"It was a planned bombing and not a gas leak then?"

"Exactly. Inside the envelope we found a phone similar to the phone from one of the cases we had."

"The Study in Pink."

I gave John a look of confusion at what he said and he was about to explain when Sherlock interrupted.

"It's what he calls the case on his blog. Unimportant. Now, on that phone there was a message that played five pips and had a photo of your flat attached."

I nodded. "Right. She did mention something about a picture and 'five pips' you said? Isn't that what secret organizations send as a warning? That means it's going to happen again."

Sherlock nodded, absolutely enthusiastic about my easy understanding of the case and he stood up and began pacing as he continued to explain.

"Yes. And not long after that we received a phone call from a crying woman. She was reading what your assailant typed out for her and gave me nine hours to solve this case."

I smirked. "Sounds interesting. Now will you tell me what you found under that microscope that has you bouncing around the room?"

He pouted, actually _pouted_ when I basically told him I knew that he found something, but answered me anyway as Mrs. Hudson gave me some tea.

"Poison."

"What are you going on about?"

Sherlock slammed his hands on the desk and she practically ran out of the room.

"Clositridium botulinum. It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet. Carl Powers."

I blinked and my mind connected the dots. "He was murdered. Someone slipped it into his medication."

"Right! Someone introduced it to his medication and two hours later he comes up to London. The poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles, and he drowns."

"Well, how come the autopsy didn't pick that up?"

"It's virtually undetectable and no body would be looking for it."

Sherlock went over to a laptop sitting on the table in the kitchen and began typing something and I felt a bit left out, so I shakily stood and hobbled into the kitchen as well.

"It's one of the reasons I dislike cops, John. They see one reason behind something and ignore all the other possibilities. They though Carl Powers drowned so they wouldn't go looking for another means of death."

Sherlock smiled slightly at me and then proceeded explained to John why the murderer took the shoes in order to hide the poison. I sighed and leaned against the wall to keep the room from tilting slightly, since the drug was still messing with me, when a phone went off. Sherlock went over to the phone and answered the call as a crying woman's voice came over the phone.

"W-Well d-done you. Come and get me."

"Where are you? Tell us where you are!"

She gave us an address and John called the police and bomb squad to take care of the woman. Sherlock went back into the living room and I followed, lying down on his couch as he sat back in his chair. I knew I needed sleep to rid myself of the drug still in my system, but the idea of sleep brought flashbacks of what happened in my flat and I frowned. _I've never been afraid of anything after what happened in Korea and now I'm being all chicken because of some stupid woman who caught me off guard and drugged me? Man, I've really sunk low._ I sat up and started walking to the door when Sherlock called out to me.

"You're scared."

I stopped, but didn't look back at him. "What makes you think that, Sherlock?"

"You were attacked after being shocked from the death of someone close to you. You were vulnerable and that woman used it against you. She caught you off guard and drugged you as well. Anyone would be frightened-"

"Except you, right Sherlock?"

I turned around and went back to sit down on the chair facing him. He didn't say anything and I shook my head with a small smile, before leaning back into the chair and closing my eyes.

"I do not connect myself with those feelings." He mumbled.

"And I try not to as well, Sherlock. Yet something as simple as this seems to have put a hole in the box that holds my feelings. Nick's death, the woman attacking me, even a dream I had caused me to act like a fear stricken fool and dash down here in a half-drugged state. I went hysterical at the fact that I was acting like that. After everything that has happened to me, I'm surprised I'm even still able to feel. I should've gone mad, Sherlock. And sometimes, I think I already have and I just haven't realized it yet…Am I mad, Sherlock?"

There was silence for a moment as I patiently waited for his answer, but the silence was just long enough for me to fall asleep.

* * *

Sherlock looked up at Dani, to find she was asleep. He simply stared at her for a moment, absorbed in his thoughts. _Athletic and muscular, but not overly so. Auburn hair that shines a brighter red under the light. Rough, calloused hands from physical work, heavy lifting, and trombone and violin playing. Across the knuckles there are scars from past fighting and even a slight bruise from her fight with the woman earlier. Then there was the panther tattoo on her stomach and the scars across her back. The red welts were most likely from the woman hitting her with…a whip, maybe? But the others were old. Years old and from multiple weapons; knives, whips, hot iron, and something that was hard but left multiple wounds close together. What could she have possibly gone through to earn those?_

"_**Hēi bào." **_(black panther)

"_**How do you know of the black panther?"**_

"_**Have you ever heard the legend about the only person to have escaped a North Korean holding facility?"**_

_Could she have been talking about herself? But how? It's nearly impossible to escape from there, let alone a prison there. And the marks…she was tortured? For what? Weapons, drugs, information? Why would she have been there in the first place?_

"_**I'm mostly for hire."**_

_She was hired to go there and got caught doing it?_

He paused in his thoughts and looked over the woman in front of him, not noticing John in the doorway of the kitchen with a smirk.

_How does she do this? How does she stump me with the simplest of questions? I should be able to answer right away and yet, she forces me to think about it; to actually work it out like some complex mathematical equation. Even before…_

"_**Anyone would be frightened-"**_

"_**Except you, right Sherlock?"**_

_She knew what I was going to say before I even had a chance to utter a syllable. I was silenced by a mere interruption. If it was John I would've said that it was true; that I wouldn't have been frightened. Yet, I sat there and thought about it. I had to mentally put myself in her position. What if John, Mrs. Hudson, or Lestrade had died and then I was attacked while I was vulnerable? What if I was caught off guard by that woman and drugged? Would I have been able to say I had not even an ounce of fear?_

_Not only that, but her intelligence! A mind so similar to mine; able to connect the dots and see things that others don't even notice, but she can see the feelings as well. The personal connections that I always seem to overlook. She claims to be a sociopath and yet she knows the human feelings as well as any other person without the actual physical and social connection._

_She didn't even bat an eye when I analyzed her and even had the courage to analyze me in return! She almost knows how I function and was even able to distract me from personal questions in the last case with only a couple of words. How could such a woman even exist?_

He noticed something fall down the side of her face and he stood up.

"_**Am I mad, Sherlock?"**_

He put his coat over her and brushed the tear from her cheek, leaning in close to her ear and whispered,

"You're not mad, Dani."

_You're brilliant._ He thought, then walked out of the room to his own bedroom while John snuck out the front door without a sound.

* * *

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house. Told her to phone you. Check the read out from this pager."

I watched as John picked up the black pager Lestrade had set on the desk and Sherlock continued to wander the room.

"If she deviated from one word, the sniper would set her off."

"Or if you hadn't solved the case."

"Oh, elegant."

"You really think so? I was thinking…_extravagant._"

"Are you serious, Dani?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Don't you think so too?"

He rolled his eyes at me and Lestrade gave a slightly disgusted look as he spoke.

"What was the point? Why would anyone do this?"

"I can't be the only person in the world who gets bored."

"He's right." I said. "He gets bored he shoots walls. I get bored and throw things. Whose to say that our bomber isn't bored and solves that boredom by playing games and blowing up civilians? Wouldn't be the first time."

"_Really_? And who do you know that likes to blow people up?"

I smirked wickedly at Lestrade. "I can name quite a few people. My father, my brother, just about every teenage boy in the world-"

"What?!"

"Think about it. How many video games are just a bunch of violence and blowing people up? This guy just took it to the next level by playing in real life."

I smiled and leaned back in my chair when the pink phone went off.

"_You have one new message."_

This time, four pips went off; which John pointed out. Sherlock mentioned how we had passed the first test and this was the next one before he showed us the picture of a blue car that was attached to the message.

"I'll see if it's been reported."

Lestrade began phoning to find out whether or not the car's been reported when the door suddenly opened and a dark skinned woman stood in the doorway carrying a phone.

"Freak. It's for you."

I didn't approve of the word 'freak' that she used to address Sherlock, but I suppose that's just what she thought of him as. _If anything, they've just somehow managed to get on each others' bad sides._ I sighed and watched Sherlock as he took the phone and answered it. I knew I wouldn't be able to hear anything, but watching how he reacts to the call could tell me everything. _Then again, this is Sherlock. He might not give anything away._

Luckily, that wasn't entirely the case. Almost immediately after he answered, he turned to the side with wide eyes. _Must be another of those civilians strapped to a bomb._ He then spun around and looked all over the police station, as though he was looking for the bomber there. Standing up, I grabbed John and headed to the door.

"Dani? W-Wha-"

"Sh. Sherlock's been called by the bomber's new messenger."

John looked a bit surprised, but stayed quiet like I asked as we stood behind Sherlock.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume."

John folded his arms. "Who are you? What's that noise?"

_Noise? That means there's something in the background that's loud enough to be caught by the phone. It could mean this guy's just about anywhere._

"We found it!"

I scowled at Lestrade's loud voice next to me, but followed him anyway; asking Sherlock a quick couple of questions.

"So, how much time do we have?"

"8 hours."

_Short and clipped. He's bothered by this._ "And the noise?"

"'The sounds of life'."

I scowled at the lack of information as we got into the cab; Sherlock not wanting to be in a cruiser. After a while of driving we ended up at a construction site just off a dock. I followed just a little bit behind Sherlock, eager to hear what Lestrade had discovered so far about the car and it's owner.

"The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Bank of some kind. City boy, paid in cash. Told his wife he was going away on a business trip and he never arrived."

Sherlock went to the passenger's side while I went to the driver's. On the parking brake and middle console there was blood, but something seemed off about it to me. _There's no body but nearly a pint of blood just _poured_ here._ My thoughts would have continued but the dark skinned woman from before began talking rather loudly to John.

"You're still hanging around him?"

"Yeah well."

"Opposites attract I suppose?"

"We're not-"

"You should get yourself a hobby. Stamps maybe. Model trains. Safer."

Sherlock began peeking in the glove compartment while I checked under the seat.

"Before you ask, yes it's Monkford's blood. DNA checks out."

We both stood back up and I gave a thoughtful frown.

"No body?"

"Not yet."

I frowned even more as Sherlock asked for a blood sample to be sent to the lab. Lestrade just turned and stared at the woman who rolled her eyes and started walking. I wasn't far behind and she turned around and held out her hand.

"Looks like the freak's caught another one. Sergeant Sally Donovan." I stared down at her hand but didn't shake it so she put it down with a slight scowl. "I already told John this, but you should stay away from Sherlock Holmes."

I scowled. "Do you have anything smarter to say?" She opened her mouth in shock while I continued. "Because if you don't I'll be going. I don't associate with people who sleep with married men. It's disgusting. Especially when they get off on insulting those who are more than they'll ever be. Now if you'll excuse me."

I walked off and met up with John as I let out a soft sigh, pulling my hand through my short hair. "_Women_."

John gave me a look while Sherlock smirked. "But aren't you one?"

I nodded. "Yes, but it's when I meet people like _that _that make me question how I'm of the same species. Now what'd I miss?"

Sherlock just walked off with a smile and John explained to me what had happened between him and the wife. He was a good actor, but even know I could see he had something that John hadn't told me. _This man just likes to make me squirm._

"John, how was she speaking?"

"Huh? Well, she was crying but started getting angry when Sherlock kept saying the wrong things. I personally don't see how what he did help-"

"That's not what I meant. Was she speaking in passed tense?"

"What? I, uh…Actually I don't know."

"Yes, she was. A bit premature seeing how they've only just found his car."

Sherlock now had a scowl on his face and I smiled, knowing I had found out what he was hiding.

"You think she murdered her husband?"

"Nope. A murderer wouldn't have screwed up like that, John."

"I see…No, I don't. What am I seeing?"

I heard Donovan yell something about fishing to John as we walked up a slope to call another cab. I sighed and was about to tell him, but Sherlock shoved a hand across my mouth.

"No." He removed it. "Don't tell him yet. It'll ruin the surprise."

"Right. Wouldn't want that to happen."

"Wouldn't want what to happen?" I began walking away, leaving John standing there like a fool. "Dani? What wouldn't you want to happen?!"

I turned back, just for a little fun. "I wouldn't want you to actually start using your brain! Wouldn't want myself to get replaced by Sherlock's one and only blogger after all!"

* * *

We were soon in the office of the head of Janus Cars and he seemed really calm about the three of us bugging him. _Now where have I heard the name Janus Cars before?_

"Can't see how I can help you gentlemen."

"Mr. Monkford hired a car from you…yesterday?"

"Yeah. A lovely motor. Mazda RX8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself."

Sherlock began walking behind the man's desk and pointed to one of the photographs on the wall to distract the man. Easily getting a peek at the man's tan line.

"Is that one?"

"No, they're all Jags. Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?"

"Can't you afford a Mazda? I don't see any reason why not."

I could see all the possible reasons in my mind as to why he wouldn't get one. _Wife won't let him. Car business actually in the slumps, which I doubt. Saving up the money for something else. Endless possibilities, but what is his?_

"Yeah, that's a fair point, but you know how it is. It's like working in a sweets shop. Once you start picking up the licorice, all sorts, when does it stop."

Sherlock and I watched as the man scratched his left shoulder, but I couldn't get a closer look without being in Sherlock's way.

"You didn't know Mr. Monkford?"

"No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. Don't know what happened to him. Poor sod."

"Nice holiday, Mr. Ewart? You've been away, haven't you?"

"Oh, the-No, it's the sunbeds, I'm afraid. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it though. A bit of sun."

I immediately saw where Sherlock was going with this and stood up from my chair and pulled out a bill.

"You wouldn't happen to have change, would you? I saw a cigarette machine on the way in and I don't have any change."

The man pulled out his wallet and began checking through it as I spotted Colombian pesos.

"No, sorry."

Sherlock pulled me away and herded me towards the door. "Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ewart. You've been very helpful. Come on, John."

John followed us out into the garage and he pulled out his wallet.

"I've got change, if you still want to-"

"Nah, I'm okay. I have two nicotine patches on now and I'm doing good to get away from it after my little…relapse."

"Really? Then what was that about?"

"Just needed a peek in his wallet."

"Why?"

"Mr. Ewart's a liar."

Sherlock popped in as we left and dropped him off at Bart's. I would've stayed with him, but he told me to get back to my flat and John had a date so he wasn't staying either. After reaching my flat, I put the key in the lock and paused at the door. I let out the breath I was holding and opened the door. It wasn't as bad as I thought and I felt ridiculous for acting like such an idiot yesterday.

_Speaking of yesterday, there was that thing with Sherlock._ It was an odd morning to say the least, when I woke up in Sherlock's flat with his coat over me. I barely even remembered the conversation we had, but I swore I heard Sherlock tell me something that night. Something important. Not only that, but he actually chuckled when I woke up and gave him a strange look as he sat in a chair across from me, plucking at his violin. He said something about my hair and the look on my face reminding him of a Troll doll. I, of course, retaliated by stealing his violin and playing a few screeching notes of my own before leaving the flat to get dressed with some clothes he stole-I mean, borrowed from my flat.

I tripped over something and fell to the floor, deciding to just lay there for a moment to collect my thoughts on some other topic. _Like what? This case? A car abandoned near a dock, almost _wanting_ to be found. A pint of blood in it _poured_ on the center console so most likely a set up. The wife easily spoke in past tense so she knew it was a set up and most likely helped. Then there's Ewart. He lied about not traveling because no one would wear a shirt on a tanning bed and he had Colombian pesos in his wallet and kept scratching his shoulder, so a booster shot; which is required to get into the country. Plus, the name of the place. I've heard it before._ Standing up, I went over to my computer and asked an acquaintance about the name.

"Janus Cars. I _know_ I've heard of it before."

_Bling!_

I scrolled the e-mail and smirked, slamming my fists against the desk and pulling out my phone to call up Sherlock. Unfortunately, I got a busy signal so I waited a few minutes before calling again and got through.

"Sherlock! Janus Cars. I've heard of it before and a friend of mine just confirmed it. They give a special service. If you have any problems, like money or a bad marriage, they'll help you _disappear_. They fake deaths and send you off to a foreign country where no one will find you. Ian probably had money troubles and him and his wife went to Janus Cars to set this up."

"Brilliant, Dani! The blood samples I have here also support that. The blood was frozen. Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood and they just spread it on the seat. Hurry down to the forensic car park. I'll meet you there with John."

"Ah, I can't-" I heard the dial tone on the other end of my phone and scoffed. "God, he's as bad as my mother. Speaking of, she's gonna kill me for not calling her."

I quickly dressed in dark clothes, grabbing my phone which had the map I needed to locate Asad. I was finally going to get rid of him and I was easily able to get into the safe (I personally installed a while back) in order to get out the equipment I needed. _Let's see…knife for personal use, pistol; also for personal use…although I probably won't need either…and my own sniper rifle; hidden away in a backpack._ I didn't bother smiling to myself after all, I was going out to kill a man. The moment I started enjoying it was the moment I become a psychotic criminal.

"God knows we have enough of those already."

I rolled my eyes and packed everything up before calling a taxi. It was when I decided to wait until I got in the taxi and was on my way, before I picked up my cell and dialed the dreaded number to my mother's phone. It hardly finished the first ring before she was practically screaming in my ear.

"Dani! Why haven't you called?! I've been so worried about you and you left me here thinking you'd died or something!"

"Mum, it's only been a few days. Surely you can give me some time alone without having to call you every hour."

"I see you've gotten rid of most of your accent. Are you in England now?"

I rolled my eyes at her subject change as I walked up a set of stairs to the roof of an apartment complex across the way from my target's home. "Yes mum"

"Oh, found any good looking guys yet?"

"No! Will you stop bugging me about that? I already told you I'm not looking for a relationship right now! I'm busy!"

"Busy? With what? What could you possibly be too busy with to find yourself a man?"

It was starting to get dark and I felt better knowing that I planned ahead to be on a building where the sun was setting behind me; blocking me from my target's view should he happen to try and spot me. Luckily for me though, Asad had came home just in time and didn't even look nervous.

"With what? Work mother. Now I've gotta go so-"

"Call me in an hour!"

I pulled the phone away from my ear as the dial tone echoed from the speaker, and stared at it in slight shock. _She hung up on me again! I feel a bit guilty for speaking with her when I'm about to kill someone but…Argh, I don't have time for this. _Frowning distinctly, I made sure my scope was dialed in and took aim. Just as I steadied my breathing pattern and went to pull the trigger, a shadow caught my eye and I rolled to the side just as another Iranian man swung a large saber down on the spot I was previously in. _Stupid Mycroft! You said he was alone!_

I had no time to dwell on that thought before the man was swinging at me again. Up on my feet now, I went for my handgun but was forced to use it to block the saber instead of shooting it. The weight was too much for my burned arms and I dropped the gun, grabbing my knife instead and managing to swiftly close the distance between us for a good stab in the abdomen.

The man groaned and stumbled back, before acting as though nothing happened and attacking me again. _Gah, I need to end this fast before Asad dashes off._ My handgun was maybe a few feet away from me and I only needed one shot to get it, so I took a chance. The roof was slippery after a drizzle this morning and I ran towards the man just as he raised the sword, only to duck and slide underneath his legs. The sword nicked my cheek, but I ignored it and picked up my gun. The man saw what I had done and desperately ran towards me to kill me first, but all he did was give me a better shot.

_Bang!_

The man collapsed on me, getting blood on my black sweater from his wound. The blood I could care less about since black covered it up rather well, but now was my only chance to get Asad should he have another man alerting him if this one lost. Running over to my scope I was glad it was still perfectly on target and, just as Asad had picked up a cell phone and turned to face me outside of his window, I took the shot and finished the job.

I packed up my things, slightly more depressed about having to kill two men today instead of the one, but easily caught a cab back to Baker Street where I quickly headed into my flat before anyone could see the dark stain on my sweater.

After my sniper and other weapons were stashed away, I frowned when I realized that I had left behind my knife. _Damn, that was my favorite hunting knife too._ I took out my phone and began texting Mycroft in order for him to take care of the two men and to possibly bring my knife back. I was nearly finished when a loud pounding came from my door. Rolling my eyes, I wandered over; already knowing who it was by how consistently he knocked and the slight anger behind each one growing as I took my time reaching the door. I opened the door and didn't plan on looking up from my phone until the message was sent.

"Yes?"

"Why weren't you at the car park?"

"I tried to tell you I couldn't come, but you hung up before I could explain. Surely, you deduced it yourself by now so what point would there be in me explaining it?"

I glanced up and stuffed my phone in my pocket, as Sherlock finished his once over of me and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The action kind of bothered me for some reason, but I blew it off to my emotions still being raw from my earlier endeavors.

"Um, it would be nice if _I _knew what was going on, though."

John had apparently came along with Sherlock, but I was exhausted and left the explaining to Sherlock by closing the door in their faces.


	8. Chapter 8

**Here's the next chapter and thank you to all you people who reviewed, favorited, and followed ^^ It's nice to know people are actually reading this.**

* * *

"Okay…So, uh, what happened?"

John gazed at Sherlock inquisitively, but the man just turned around and marched back up to his flat in a huff. Poor John was left trailing up behind him, using vain attempts to get Sherlock to answer him. Luckily, he was soon answered when Sherlock grew tired of his nagging; setting down his violin angrily.

"Sherloc-"

"It's quite obvious, John, even to someone as stupid as you." John frowned, sensing that Sherlock was in one of his moods again.

"Go on then. Prove just how stupid I am."

"The cut on her cheek. Not deep, but made with a smooth, sharp object; such as a sword or knife. Then there's her outfit. Completely dark and covering most of her pale skin, which could be seen as a liability in a darker environment. Not only that, but she reeked of blood and there was a slightly darker patch of black on her sweater from where someone landed on her after she killed them. Her hands also had high caliber gun residue still present as well as a small ring under her eye from where she pressed herself against a scope, stating that she had just come back from, most likely, taking care of the man who killed her 'friend'. Really John. It's so _ridiculously _easy. The only question I have is, why did she do it in such a dull manner? It's disgusting."

"What?!"

John looked absolutely appalled by Sherlock's mannerism and stared at him as though he'd grown four heads to hold his massive intellect. Sherlock tossed his violin next to him on the couch and sat up, placing his hands in their steeple-like position.

"Why kill him with a sniper? A single shot through the cranium, from a potentially compromise able position. It's not her style."

"And what style is that exactly, Sherlock?! She just lost somebody close to her and all you can think about is why she killed the killer the way she did?! Even I can tell she may have possible mental stability issues and you only seem to be making it worse! In my opinion-"

"Oh, do shut up. I believe I _have_ stated before that you need to stop inflicting your opinions on others. Yes? Well then, here's lesson one. _Let me finish_."

John scowled, but sat quietly on his arm chair with his arms folded across his chest.

"Fine."

"She _does_ have a specific style. She is, in a way, similar to both; our newest killer and myself. She likes to play games. Solve problems, explain riddles. She wants her enemy to suffer and yet she took out this man so simply. Almost as though she didn't want him dead, but then, why go after him in the first place? She is contradicting herself and her actions. Surely, she could have just sent Mycroft to do the dirty work for her but, she wants the man dead and she wants it done by her own hands. Why not do it more elaborately, though? Why not torture the man for what he has done? Cause him the suffering that she is going to feel in the future?"

"Well, maybe she just wanted the man to be killed the same way her friend did for some reason."

"Yes, but the underlying question to all of this is…_why_?" He paused for a moment before a smirk overcame his features. "My God, John! Don't you see? Her mind is unbelievably complex! She has even _me_ questioning her motives. Perhaps her intellectuality surpasses my own…" John's eyes glinted mischievously as Sherlock continued. His face scrunched up in thought. "Impossible. Never mind that statement, John. Although, perchance, could it be that she is able to bring out the need of empathy in others; including myself even?"

"You? Capable of empathy?"

Sherlock shook his head. "You're right, you're right. Impractical. Hm…perhaps-"

John could tell Sherlock would probably be up all night trying to figure Dani out and he went off into the direction of his own room. _Sometimes, Sherlock, you can be such a dolt._ John gave a short sigh and then began wondering if he should change his betting in the pot at the Yard before heading off to bed; leaving Sherlock to try and figure out the workings of a mind that had the potential to be superior to his own.

* * *

It was early morning when a loud knock came to my door and I was not in the best of moods. After what happened yesterday, I had cleaned myself up and tried to sleep only to be riddled with nightmares. I hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep and I'm not a morning person in any way, shape, or form so Sherlock coming to my door to drag me out somewhere was not a good idea for him.

Sitting on my couch, I ignored the knocking and focused on the loud classical music flowing throughout the house from my ipod speakers. I could just barely hear him picking the lock over the noise and frowned at the fact that he would resort to that. _Oh well. He'll just be the first to deal with my newest security system._ With a smirk, I dashed to the kitchen and grabbed a jar of assorted peanuts, vaulting over the couch and turning to enjoy the show.

With a small 'click' the door was unlocked and Sherlock started to open the door but stopped. _He couldn't have figured it out that quickly…Could he?_ I scowled and listened to what I could hear from the other side of the door.

"Sherlock! I don't see why _I_ have to open her door. It's not like she's got it rigged or anything."

The door started moving again and I thought about warning John, but the door stopped again.

"Oh God. It _is_ rigged, isn't it?"

"Now what would give you that idea?"

"Well, for one thing, you're having _me _open it and didn't she mention something before about how she rigs her windows? I'm not opening this. Dani! Can't you just answer the door like a normal person?!"

I sighed. "Now, John, where's the fun in that? Besides, you should know by now that none of us are exactly _normal_…And if you don't open the door, I'd have gotten out my peanuts for nothing."

I got up from the couch and leaned against the wall so that they could see me through the small crack in the door as I ate another nut. John rolled his eyes with a small smile but cringed when he saw me.

"Jesus, Dani. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Why do you think I didn't answer the door?"

He nodded and gestured to the door. "What did you do to it anyway that's got Sherlock trying to get me to open it?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. If you open it though, you'll probably end up hanging upside down with your eyebrows missing, is all."

John's mouth dropped open and Sherlock shoved him aside. "Which is exactly why _I _did not wish to open it. Very ingenious, Dani, but I would hide the trip wire a bit better. I find that a thin piece of string works better than fishing line."

"But fishing line is stronger and can hold up a person better, whereas a simple string can be torn by too much weight. Trust me, Sherlock, I know what I'm doing but I'll take into consideration the fact that it need more camouflage. Now what the devil do you want?"

He appeared satisfied by my explanation of my tripwire and put on an innocent face instantly.

"I merely wanted to invite you put for breakfast. John, here, wanted a bite to eat before we start working on the case again."

The thought of food had me interested easily. _They seemed to have found what I like pretty fast._ "We talking pancakes or waffles?" I scrutinized.

"Whichever you prefer."

"Give me a minute."

I closed the door, de-rigged my trap, and pulled a dagger out of the wall where I had thrown it into a picture of Mycroft. I smirked and tugged on my boots, turning my music off, and grabbing my key before walking out; locking the door behind me.

"You're not putting the trap back up?"

I shook my head at John's question. "No. Wouldn't want to come home and find Mrs. Hudson hanging upside-down without eyebrows. She likes to sneak in my room and do dusting when I'm gone."

"R-Right."

He shook his head and mumbled something about living with mad people. I smirked.

"Let me tell you something, John. 'All the best people are mad and we're all mad here'."

He seemed lost, but Sherlock hummed I agreement, recognizing the quote. We all started walking out to the cab then, and quickly came up to a small restaurant. Sherlock ordered nothing, John ordered an omelet, and I got waffles before Sherlock finally spoke.

"Feeling better, John?"

"Hm. To be honest, we've hardly stopped for a breath since this thing started…Has it occurred to you-"

"Probably." Sherlock interrupted.

"No. Has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into Dani's flat, the kid's shoes. It's all meant for you."

I rolled my eyes, wondering how long it took John to figure that out as Sherlock humored him.

"Yes. I know."

"Is it him, then? Moriarty?"

Sherlock looked over at me with a frown. I knew what he was thinking about since I was the one who actually came into contact with the possible bomber. Leaving my fork hanging out of my mouth, I reached across the table and got the jar of honey which I poured over my waffles.

"It 'ould be 'im. But a 'oman attacked me. Maybe she's being used."

They both nodded, getting the gist of what I was saying despite the fork impeding my speech. Then, the pink phone played three pips, catching everyone's attention. Sliding the bar to unlock the phone, a photograph of a woman showed on the screen.

"That could be anybody."

"Well, it could be, yeah. Lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed and don't sleep all day."

John gave me a look and I looked back at my food with a slight red tinge on my cheeks.

"How do you mean?"

"Lucky for you, Mrs. Hudson and I watch too much telly."

He got up and went towards the counter so he could turn on the television as I muttered at my seat.

"Telly rots your brain. I'd rather sleep."

"You're right on that account, Dani."

Sherlock said, then he turned his gaze toward the television that showed the same woman on the phone. The pink phone rang loudly and even I stopped eating to hear what I could as Sherlock picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

Unfortunately, I couldn't hear anything with the clatter of the diner around us but the look on Sherlock's face had me wondering just who was the voice this time. John rejoined us, but I hardly notice.

"Why are you doing this?"

I have no clue what the answer was, but when Sherlock tossed the phone on the table the only thing I could discern from his face was disgust. Done with my food, I watched as he took deep, controlled breaths. _Something's gotten to him. Something the bomber said? Or was it whoever was speaking? God! I wish I could hear the other end of that phone!_ A touch on my hand startled me.

"Dani? You okay?"

"Huh?"

John pointed to the fork I had in my grasp that was now twisted at an odd angle. I dropped it with a clatter and tried to relax.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

He looked at me in disbelief but knew better than to push things and let go of my hand. Of course, Sherlock then grabbed the same hand and pulled me up from the chair.

"Come along. We need to have a look at the body."

And off we went. Although, I should mention that I was not happy at all as we walked into the morgue. Not only had Sherlock forced me to come when I wanted to go home and sleep, but my temper was back and my mind was working on overload. I seriously needed a cigarette.

"Connie Prince. 54. She had one of those make over shows on the telly. Did you see it?"

"Nope."

"Very popular. She was going places."

"Not anymore. So dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound. Tetanus bacteria enters the blood stream. Good night Vienna."

"I s'pose."

"Something's wrong with this picture."

"Eh?"

"Why else would the bomber be directing us towards it?"

I muttered and took a seat on a stool nearby before I began searching my pockets for a pack of cigarettes. I scowled when I couldn't find them, but I _knew_ I put a pack in my pocket before I left. I even had a lighter, so where could it have gone? _Sherlock._

"Sherlock! Where's my damn cigarettes?"

He pretty much ignored me and I was just about to get up and get in his face about it when he spoke; hovering over the body's head with a small magnifying glass.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bull, I know you snuck out my pack in the taxi cab. Give it back."

He stood straight and turned towards me, putting the magnifying glass back in his pocket.

"No. I don't think I will. John."

"Huh?"

"The cut on her hand, it's deep. Would have bled a lot, right?"

"Uh, yeah, but should you really-"

"The wound's clean. Very clean and fresh. How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?"

He spun around to face John and I stood up from my place on the stool, ready to beat Sherlock a new one for ignoring me.

"Eight, ten days."

"The cut was made after death, okay? Now why the hell won't you give me my damn cigarettes?!"

"Because, last time I checked, you were trying to quit. Can't exactly do that when you're smoking two packs a day, now can you?"

Gritting my teeth, I continued. "I wouldn't be smoking two packs a day if _someone_ hadn't stole the rest of my nicotine patches and if he'd actually let me get some sleep like I wanted!"

"Please. The moment you returned to your flat you'd end up smoking _four_ packs a day because you _couldn't _sleep. Now let's get back to the case, shall we?"

I gave up, right then and there. My mind simply couldn't handle it any more and I was done dealing with Sherlock. I started walking towards the door only to be halted by Sherlock's hand on my wrist. I tensed.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my flat."

"No. I need you here."

I spun around to face him, twisting his hand off my wrist and shoving him against the wall with a snarl.

"Then you shouldn't keep pushing me away. Get back to your case, Holmes."

I released him and stormed out of the morgue, desperate enough for a cigarette that I bought a pack from the machine outside. Lighting one up, I started walking to some unknown destination. My flat had temptation sitting within reach and I knew that today was just one of those days were the risk would be too great.

* * *

Sherlock watched as Dani left the morgue in a huff and he turned towards John again.

"Bad?"

John nodded. "Most definitely. You can't keep pushing her like that Sherlock."

"Hm."

"No. I'm serious! If you keep doing that, you may end up pushing her into doing something dangerous!"

"If you haven't noticed, John, she is easily capable of handling herself."

"Maybe physically, but mentally? You really think she won't start turning towards drugs? Or suicide, even?"

It took Sherlock a moment to think that over. _Would she really resort to that? I mean, the signs _do _point to it, but she seems too strong for that. Then again, I believed that I was too strong for that as well and ended up getting into…_ His thoughts trailed off and he felt John's eyes probing his back, waiting for his answer.

"She won't. She's too hard-headed."

John sighed, not noticing that Sherlock sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of his answer as well.

"You want to help, right John?"

"Help? With what? Dani, or the case? Because, personally, I don't want to help you with anything right now."

"The case, John! We have a little over five and a half hours to stop the bomber from claiming another victim. I believe Dani's problem can wait a while, don't you?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing Sherlock was right, but silently wishing he wasn't.

"Fine. What do you need?"

"Connie Prince's background. Family history, everything. Give me data."

"Right."

John walked off and Sherlock started to walk away as well when Lestrade spoke to him.

"There's something else that we haven't thought of."

"Is there?"

"Yes. Why is he doing this; the bomber? If this woman's death is suspicious, why point it up?"

"Good Samaritan."

"Who press-gangs suicide bombers?"

"Bad Samaritan."

"I'm serious, Sherlock. Listen. I'm cutting you slack here. I'm trusting you, but out there somewhere, some poor bastard's covered in Semtex and he's just waiting for you to solve the puzzle. So just tell me, what are we dealing with?"

"Something new."

_And something interesting, but you're missing it, Dani._

* * *

It felt good to wander. After finally deciding to settle down here in England, I wasn't sure at first if I could handle not traveling constantly. I sighed in relaxation and slumped down on the bench I was sitting on. I had absolutely no idea where I was at, but it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that it was quiet and there was no one around to bother me. Or so I thought.

The bench creaked as someone sat down next to me and I frowned. Opening my eyes, I was met with some guy in a suit. My mind began working, having nothing better to do than to analyze him.

He was middle aged, around the same age as Sherlock, with a bit of stubble. He looked like an ordinary business type, but I could feel something was off about him. There was something in the way he held himself that made me think he thought better of himself than the people around him.

"Nice day, don't you think?"

I didn't answer, just staring at this man like he was insane. He turned to look at me and I could see the immense amount of intelligence behind his eyes. My stomach was telling me to leave, but I didn't want to go back to the flat since Sherlock would have most likely returned by now. So, I stayed; tilting my head back with a sigh hoping the man would just leave me alone. He didn't.

"You don't talk much then? That's fine. I like doing the talking anyway."

"What do you want?"

"Hm?"

I glared at the man. "You're obviously bugging me for _some_ reason, so hurry up and say what you want to say and leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to place nice with some rich guy wearing a nice suit. Go blow somebody up or something."

"Oh, but I already have."

That caught my attention. Just the way he said it screamed that he was not kidding in any sort of fashion. I tried not to tense or show any reaction. If this was the bomber we were after, then I could be in a load of crap. People were already filling the park we were sitting in and I couldn't just attack and kill this man with this many witnesses.

"Then shouldn't you being doing something useful? Like blowing yourself up."

He laughed and I scowled. "Ahaha! I couldn't do that! There's no fun in doing that."

"I disagree. Kill yourself in a staged bombing and no one will even be able to figure out who the killer was. Might even get some fans to continue your madness in later years. It would _definitely_ frustrate some people."

He thought about it for a moment. "I suppose one could do that, but I'm not that kind of person, you see. I'm the type that likes to play games, Dani."

Now my body was on high alert. This man knew my name. My _real_ name. He could do anything with that information and all it will do is cause me trouble and pain. My family was in danger now. I need to get rid of him, and fast.

I began searching for quick exit routes. This man was able to go into hiding easily, so this may be my only chance to finish him. The only problem was, the people. There was no possible way to get rid of him without someone seeing me, so I had to make sure I had a foolproof way of escape.

"There's no point in searching for an escape. I have my own people out in the crowd currently and if you so much as twitch the wrong way, well…_boom_."

"What do you want."

"Well~ I want to know how Sherlock's doing-"

"He's fine."

"_And_ I want to give you a proposition."

I stood up. "Not interested."

"It's not really something you can ignore."

Something in me snapped and I was in front of the man with a hunting knife to his throat instantly, keeping the weapon out of sight as I got into his face.

"I don't take orders from you."

"Ah." He said calmly. "But you don't really have a choice, do you?"

Something flashed across my eye and I growled when I saw the red dot travel down to my chest and back up towards my temple. He was right. Either I get shot here and die, or listen to what he has to say about this proposition. I hid the knife and stood there waiting for him to tell me about the deal he wanted to make.

"That's better. So obedient."

"Don't test me."

"Of course!~ Why would I even _think_ of doing such a thing?"

I didn't appreciate his teasing, but I couldn't do anything about it either.

"Now, that proposition I mentioned. It's simple, really. I just need you to play spy for me. Go on about your normal life, helping Sherlock Holmes and report to me what he's doing and anything new you find out about him. Then, you'll come to my side and work for me. No more Holmes bothering you and you'll get to enjoy the look of panic on his face when he finds out you betrayed him."

"No way in hell."

"Oh? Why not?"

"You may think I don't like Sherlock, and I don't, but that doesn't mean I'd make him go through what happened to me."

"Ah yes. The Black Panther. A North Korean institutional escapee who was sent in for a job only to be betrayed by the same person who hired her. A wonderful story. I've read it many times, but '_no' is not an option._ I can't have you go and tell Sherlock about me, now can I?"

"Sucks for you then, huh? Because _I'm making it an option._"

I smiled like the devil himself and spontaneously disappeared into the crowd, making it near impossible to hit me by sniper. Running around people and in-between couples, I kept an eye out for any threats. _Large man on right; 2 o'clock. Another on left; 7 o'clock. Both around 5 yards away while three more at 1 o'clock, 10 o'clock, and 6 o'clock are at least 10 yards. Best not to engage for fear of police and public interference. Only option left is the main road._

I ran just barely past the first man, outrunning the second and third. Hitting the fourth in the stomach, I left him doubled over and launched myself into the main road as a gunshot rang out. It was the only chance the sniper had; the split second I set foot on the empty sidewalk before tumbling into traffic head-on. The bullet had torn through my upper left shoulder, but I had no time to dwell on the pain as I had to dodge on coming traffic.

The first car stopped, the second didn't. I was hit, not too hard, but hard enough to throw me to the ground. I couldn't stick around though, and got to my feet running off as the driver tried to stop me. I was out of the sniper range and my followers seemed to have stopped, but I knew better than to underestimate my enemies. A few blocks later, I finally slid to the ground in an alleyway as the adrenaline wore off and the pain decided to rear it's ugly head.

Assessing my injuries, I was surprised that I wasn't more seriously injured from the car. It had only given me large scrapes on my right arm and shoulder as well as my right leg, ripping holes through my clothes. The only major damage from it was a sprained wrist. What was more important to me, was my gunshot wound.

Peeling the top portion of my shirt down, I grit my teeth as I tried to figure out if the bullet went all the way through or not. _Entry wound but no exit. Not good._ _I need to get the bullet out but if I go to a hospital…_ My thoughts trailed off as I realized that I couldn't keep sitting still. This guy had a lot of connections and if he was looking for me, he'd find me the moment I walked in the doors of the hospital. I only had one place left to go.

"Damn. John's not going to be happy with me."

I got up and managed to somehow hail a taxi. As I got in and gave him the address, he gave me a look in the rearview mirror before he started driving.

"Don't get any blood on my seats."

I rolled my eyes, but kept my back off his seats as we drove while massaging my leg which was killing me. Then I realized, ten minutes into our drive, that I had gone pretty far when I stormed off earlier and when we finally did pull up to Baker Street, I had to pay for 10 miles worth of running, not even counting the miles I ran from the park.

Climbing up the steps to Sherlock's flat, I tried the door. Locked. _Bloody hell. You've got to be kidding me._ I kicked the door, not wanting to injure myself more and whisper-shouted to keep Mrs. Hudson from hearing me. No need to have her fainting on the stairs.

"_Sherlock! Sherlock! Are you seriously not here?!_"

I cursed under my breath and went down to my flat only to discover that I had no more bandages since I hadn't been to the store since before the case, and I didn't have anymore painkillers for my leg.

"Agh! Seriously?!"

A knock came to my door and I hurriedly changed coats to cover up my wound from Mrs. Hudson. Opening the door, I gave her a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Mrs. Hudson! Just the person I was looking for."

She looked at me with worry. "Dani, is everything all right? I heard you shouting."

"Everything's fine, Mrs. Hudson. Actually, I was wondering if you could let me into Sherlock's flat."

"Whatever for?"

"Well, you see, he's out on a case now, yes?" She nodded. "He actually wanted to meet up with me later and told me to wait in his flat but forgot to give me the keys. So would you mind letting me in?"

She nodded, reaching into her pocket for the ring of keys she kept on her as we went upstairs; me desperately trying to keep her from noticing my limp.

"I suppose, but I don't want him coming home angry about me letting you in his flat."

"Of course. I'll tell him I picked the lock. That should sooth his curiosity, don't you think?"

"I suppose. Here you go dear."

I smiled and thanked her, closing the door behind me before hurrying to the bathroom. Quickly going through his medicine cabinet, I found the bandages but no pain killers. I groaned and went back into the main room where I searched for something to splint my wrist. I was starting to think it was dislocated and I didn't really want to damage it further. I wasn't finding much though, so I used the only thing I could. Taking a stool from his kitchen, I sighed the moment I brought my foot down on one of it's legs, snapping it. _He's going to kill me for this later, but he'll get over it._ Grabbing the leg I somehow managed to splint my right wrist, but my shoulder wound had bleed through my coat and I had no way of putting pressure on the wound without causing more further injuries to myself. So I did the next best thing: I sat down at Sherlock's desk and waited.

Yeah right. There was no way I was going to wait. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began a text to Sherlock; a very difficult thing to do with only one hand so I made it short.

_Help. Baker Street._

_-D_

_That should get him here faster. I'd rather not bleed to death, after all._ I received a message, but I didn't bother to look at it. Most likely, it was Sherlock asking me what happened and I was too tired to do anything more. I struggled to stay conscious so I gripped my injured wrist on occasion; using the pain to keep my mind in some sort of focus. _Come on, guys. I need you to help me with this and I can't do it alone._

I thought back to my argument with Sherlock and realized that I was acting irrational. He was merely trying to do something for my benefit and I was throwing all my anger and emotions at him. _I really need to start controlling those better._ I sighed, wincing as my shoulder moved uncomfortably just as I heard the main door open.

"Thank God."

The door opened and John and Sherlock rushed in, the former giving me a confused glance while Sherlock looked me over with a glare. He started walking towards me and I grimaced.

"I'm glad you're here?"

He pulled open my coat violently, causing me to hiss in pain as it jarred my shoulder and exposed my bloody shirt.

"Bloody hell, Dani! How do you keep doing this to yourself?!"

I scowled at Sherlock and tugged the coat from his grip before gently removing it.

"I don't exactly ask for this, you know. I didn't expect to meet up with our bomber friend on my walk."

"What?! You could have died!"/"You saw him? What did he look like?! Describe him!"

They both exclaimed at the same time, Sherlock a bit more forceful as he grabbed my injured arm. I yelped and he released me with wide eyes.

"Sorry."

"Yeah. Me too. For earlier, I mean. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you and I'll gladly tell you about the bomber, but I was hoping that John could get the bullet out of my shoulder first. I'll also need some help bandaging it."

"Me?! You should go to the hospital, Dani!"

I frowned. "As much as I _love_ hospitals, the bomber's not exactly happy that I didn't accept his proposal and he's trying to kill me; if the bullet in my shoulder didn't give you a hint."

"Uh, right. Sorry."

"You broke my stool."

I turned to look at Sherlock staring down at the, now two-legged, stool. I sighed and held up my wrist.

"Yeah. I think my wrist is dislocated and I didn't want to mess it up more so I made a splint."

"How exactly did all of this happen?" John said as he started going through his medical pack.

"Bullet first John. Actually, I guess I can talk while you work. Where do you want me to sit, though?"

"There's fine."

I turned in the chair so that my chest was against the back rest and John moved the section of my shirt out of his way. I heard him sigh and reach into his bag as I started my tale.

"So I left the morgue, as you know, and started walking with no idea where I was going."

"Why didn't you return to your flat?"

"I…had something here that I didn't want to see and it's not you, so don't give me that look Sherlock."

He frowned, but I saw a bit of humor in it.

"Anyway, I ended up in a park and sat down when some guy sat next to me. He was about your age, Sherlock with dark hair and eyes and a bit of stubble. He was wearing a suit, so I assumed he was some business guy on lunch break or something. He started talking to me and I told him to leave me alone, but he didn't so I told him to hurry up and tell me what it was he wanted to say and to leave me alone. Then I said something about him going to go blow somebody up and he said he already has.

At that point, people had started filling up the park and I couldn't just get rid of him without causing a major commotion so I told him to go blow himself up. He laughed and said it would be no fun because he likes to play games. Then he mentioned my name."

I hissed in pain as John poured alcohol on my wound.

"A little warning next time, John."

"Sorry, but why is him saying your name so important?"

"First off, I didn't give him my name and second, my real name is very private information and I make sure not to use it when I'm on a job. You two, my family, and a few others are the only ones with knowledge of my real name. The bomber having this information is really bad because he could sell it to people who don't exactly like me, and they could go after my family.

Anyway, after that I tried to find a way to escape since I was planning to kill him to keep my family safe. He told me to forget it and said he had people of his in the crowd and threatened to blow them up should I not cooperate. He said he wanted to know how you were doing, Sherlock and then he mentioned a proposition. I told him I wasn't interested and he said I would be able to ignore it. Next thing I know, my knife is at his throat.

The guy was calm as a cucumber, probably because he had a sniper aimed at me."

"That was were you got shot?"

"Not quite." I winced as John went to grab the bullet. "I listened to his proposition, which was to spy on Sherlock for him and then betray you and come to his side. I said 'no way in hell' and he said that wasn't an option so I disappeared into the crowd. The sniper had no shot and my only exit was the main road. I managed to get past five of his guys and in the split second I was exposed on the sidewalk, I got shot. Then I ran into traffic and got hit by a car-"

"You got hit too?!"

I heard the clatter of the bullet being dropped into a cup nearby and relaxed a bit as John got ready to stitch my wound.

"Yeah, which is where the scrapes and dislocated wrist come in, John."

He groaned and started stitching me up before placing a bandage over it and starting to clean the dirt out of my scrapes. I glanced at Sherlock as he thought and John spoke.

"You seem pretty calm by all of this. Shouldn't you be worried?"

I sighed and closed my eyes. "Believe it or not, John, I am worried. I'm worried about my family and about who that maniac is going to sell my name to. Knowing him, the psycho will find the exact people that hate me the most and I would _really_ rather not deal with them ever again."

"And who would that be exactly? We should know who we may be dealing with in the future."

I looked at Sherlock with a tired expression as John undid my makeshift splint to look at my hand.

"Not today, Sherlock."

"Is it the Koreans? You mentioned them before."

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed.

"If I told you 'yes', will you drop it?"

That came out a bit snappier than I had intended, but he got the idea and dropped the subject of my past.

"How is her wrist, John?"

"I don't think it's dislocated. Probably just badly sprained is all. You should keep some ice on it for now to help with the swelling and try not to use your other arm too much until you've healed up a bit more. Okay, Dani?"

I smiled softly. "Spoken like a true doctor…I'll do my best to try to rest some, John."

He nodded and packed his stuff up. "I don't have any pain killers for you though. Sorry about that."

I shook my head. "No problem. I'll tough it out. Thanks for patching me up though. I seriously couldn't have done it myself."

"Of course. What're friends for?"

I frowned suddenly and John noticed this and tried to take it back.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No. It's okay…I just…Haven't had true friends in a while and my last experience was less than pleasant. I'm glad though. Really. The pain I'm in though, just makes it a bit hard to see."

I smiled and chuckled a bit, wincing in the end. John chuckled too and even Sherlock gave a slight smirk. We all stayed that way for a moment in comfortable silence until Sherlock decided to end it.

"John. We need to go inform Lestrade about the killer."

"Oh, right."

"Who was it, might I ask?"

Sherlock didn't even turn as he answered. "Raoul de Santos."

"The botox injection, right?"

He turned that time around. "How did you know? You hardly looked at the body."

I smirked. "With that body and the money she makes, I'm surprised she didn't get a tummy tuck. But, seriously, I walked right past the body and my mind was on overload this morning."

"What do you mean?" He frowned in confusion.

"Too little sleep, plus _amazing_ waffles loaded with sugar, and staring at a blank white wall all night kind of makes my mind work like mad and notice the smallest things."

He nodded and then started for the door. I got up to follow them, but everything started to blur and I saw the ground coming up at me before I knew what was happening. Luckily, someone caught me and I looked up into Sherlock's grey eyes which, I noticed in that moment, were actually an icy blue. He held me up, since my feet decided to not work at the moment, and he set me down on the couch.

"You've lost too much blood. Stay here and rest. We're just going to tell Lestrade and then we'll come back. You can stay here for the night as well."

"Sherlock, I can just sleep in my flat. I'll be fi-"

"No."

I was surprised. Sherlock didn't seem like the type to willingly let someone into his living space and the first time I did, I assumed was because he didn't want to carry me down to my flat. Now, I was perfectly capable of doing just that (with a little help) and yet he _wanted_ me to stay.

"You will stay here, Dani. Now sleep. I will retrieve your pain pills when we return."

He left with John and I just stared at the door for a moment, before finally giving in to sweet oblivion.


	9. Author's Note! SUPER Important!

**Oh man, you guys are going to be very upset about this, but I won't be updating for a while. My laptop died on me Christmas Eve and I haven't been able to fix it. T.T It really sucks because I was in the middle of writing updates (for The Black Panther, Street Smarts, and Amber Leaves) and it just stopped working and now it won't turn on. It's possible that I will lose **_**everything**_** as far as ongoing fanfic ideas, new chapters, and new fanfics. My mom is trying to save everything, but I don't know if my computer will be fixed or if I'll have to get a new one and start over.**

**I **_**will**_** have you know that I am handwriting the next chapter for Amber Leaves in a notebook right now and I will use my family's other computer to update it soon, hopefully. If I'm lucky, my computer problems will be solved soon, but for now most of my updates will be slow or on hold. So I'm super sorry for all of you who have been looking for updates and for those of you who are following me and now have 8 new emails from me. ^^**


	10. Chapter 9

**Okay. I know you people must really hate me right now, but my laptop _still_ isn't fixed. I was, however, able to get my files off of it and managed to find the continuation of this fanfic ^^ So I hope you enjoy it! And sorry about the cliffhanger...  
**

**If you guys are reading any of my other fanfics, I apologize, because even though I have gotten my files back I am having a hard time getting back into the heads of my characters so it might take a while longer before I am able to post new chapters for those. *bows* I'm really really sorry.**

* * *

Pain. Searing, burning pain is what I woke up to the next morning. I realized that I was no longer on the couch and was actually in a bed, but that did nothing to ease the throbbing coming from every part of my body. Being hit by that car was really coming back to get me and I hadn't been in this much pain in a while. Breathing hard, I struggled to sit up and clutched my shoulder with gritted teeth as I left the bedroom that was undoubtedly Sherlock's.

I leaned against the door frame as I listened to the television that Sherlock and John were watching, but something was off. It was the news station speaking of a bombing that killed twelve people. Then it hit me. _The bomber…But Sherlock solved the case! Did something happen or did the bomber get bored and changed his mind about letting the hostages go? Gah, I hate being out of commission and the pain isn't helping._ I slid down to the ground with my back against the frame as I heard John and Sherlock begin having a disagreement of some sort.

"Old block of flats. He certainly gets around."

"Well, obviously I lost that round. Although, technically, I _did_ solve the case…He killed the old lady because she started to describe him. Just once he put himself in the firing line."

_So that's what happened…but why would he have risked that to begin with? With the others he just used a pager but this one he spoke to her? Why would he need to speak to her unless…she was blind. Shit._

"What'd you mean?"

"Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organizes these things but no one ever has direct contact."

"What like the Connie Prince murder, he arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?"

"Novel."

They grew quiet for a moment and I assumed they were watching the telly, which I couldn't see from this angle.

"Taking his time, this time."

John cleared his throat. "Anything on the Carl Power's case?"

"Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection."

"Maybe the killer was older than Carl."

"The thought had occurred."

"So why's he doing this then? Playing this game with you? You think he wants to be caught?"

"I think he wants to be distracted."

I silently agreed with Sherlock. The man I met seemed bored with his life and I could see him wanting something to distract him from the everyday things. Hell, I wanted a distraction right now myself. The 'painkillers' in my flat were sounding extremely pleasant right about now. I mentally smacked myself. _No. You're not doing that anymore and you should have gotten rid of it already. That thing being in your flat is what's keeping you from moving on. _My thoughts were interrupted by John.

"I hope you'll be very happy together."

"Sorry, what?"

"There are lives at stake, Sherlock! Actual _human_ lives. Just…Just so I know, do you actually care about that at all?"

"Will caring about them help save them?"

_Bit blunt, but true._ "Nope."

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."

"And you find that easy to do?"

"Yes, very. Is that news to you?"

"No. No."

"…I've disappointed you."

"That's good. That's a good deduction. Yeah."

"_Don't_ make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

There was a 'bling' from the phone and Sherlock was thankful for the interruption.

"Excellent. View of the Thames. South banks, somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo. You check the papers, I'll look online."

There was silence from John and Sherlock went on.

"Ah, you're angry with me, so you won't help. Not much cop this caring lark. Dani, perhaps you would be _kind_ enough to go through the papers for me."

John finally looked my way as I forced myself to stand.

"How long have you been here?"

I grimaced from the pain. "Since the news of the bombing on the telly. You really shouldn't be angry with Sherlock, John."

He rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

"Oh great. You're on his side too?"

I gingerly sat down on the couch in front of the newspapers and began going through them.

"As inconvenient as that might seem for you, John, he has a point…Archway suicide."

"Ten a penny." Sherlock responded.

I nodded and continued as John scowled and grabbed a handful of newspapers.

"And _how_, might I ask, is he right?"

"Back in Afghanistan, did you care for the enemy you and your friends shot down?"

He frowned. "I did, sometimes."

"Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington?"

"No." Came Sherlock's reply.

"Okay then. You did care about them. Did that caring help them in any way? No, correct? They were still shot down, having maybe a few seconds more to live because of your hesitation…Oh? Andrew West. Man found on a train line. Mycroft's case."

"Nothing." Sherlock muttered, then picked up his phone as John and I abandoned our own search and continued speaking.

"Well, yeah. I agreed with him on that part. I just don't see how it's so easy for him to not care at all."

I gave a small, sad, smile. "It's probably the same reason why it's so easy for me. You grow attached and then they betray you. Simple as that."

John was silent and I went to lean back on the couch, only to sit up again as the pain spiked. He noticed, but I cut him off before he could worry.

"I'm _fine_. You get what I'm saying though, right?"

"I guess, but you sure you're okay?"

I nodded, knowing that he saw through it the moment he gave me the same look he gives Sherlock all the time. Sherlock, of course, wasn't happy about us ignoring him and came over to drag us somewhere.

"Let's go. Dani, your pain killers are on the table grab them and hurry up."

I nodded and got up, stumbling a little as my vision spun and the pain shot up through my body like being hit by that car all over again. John helped steady me, but I gently shoved him off and walked into the kitchen, listening in to the conversation he was having with Sherlock as they headed out the door.

"Sherlock, you can't be serious?!"

"About what?"

"About Dani coming with us. She was hit by a car and shot through the shoulder for Pete's sake!"

"And? She said she was fine."

"Really?! Look at her! Just getting up was a struggle and you think she'd still be fine after standing around a crime scene for who knows how long?!"

I scoffed to myself and downed the pain pills as the door closed behind them. Wrinkling my nose and sticking my tongue out at the bitter taste, I grabbed a glass of water and downed that as well. Then I sighed to myself. _I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. So what if I've gotten hurt here and there. I'm still alive, aren't I? After all the crap I've been through, he should be happy I'm still sane._

"_**Am I mad Sherlock?"**_

I froze at remembering that and the voice of someone familiar drifted through my head.

"_**You're not mad, Dani."**_

I searched through my memory at who could have said that and came up with nothing. I shrugged it off and went to grab my coat when I remembered that it was stained with blood. _Great. I guess I'm just stuck being cold then._ I shook my head, ignoring the wave of pain it sent throughout my body, and hurried out to the waiting taxi cab.

We reached the area of the dock were the body was found and I yawned loudly. It was way too early to be awake and the only reason I wasn't asleep right now was because of my pain. _Well, I suppose Sherlock plays a small part in this too._

"Do you reckon this is connected then? The bomber?"

Lestrade shouted at us from a little further off and I scowled, itching for something to ease the pounding in my head. Sherlock seemed oblivious.

"Must be. Odd though, he hasn't been in touch."

Sherlock held up the pink phone for a second as he circled around the body like a vulture.

"We must assume that some poor bugger's prime to explode, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Any ideas?"

"Seven so far."

"Seven?"

"Narrowed it down more than I have. I had about eleven."

"Jesus, what happened to you?"

I scowled at Lestrade. "Had a run in with a car and our little bo-"

I was cut off as Sherlock's hand covered my mouth and he whispered into my ear, causing me to tense up.

"You don't want to answer all his questions too, now do you? I believe it's best if you keep quiet about the bomber."

He released me and I frowned at him as Lestrade looked at us confused.

"'Our little' what?"

"Our little bobbies. You'd think your friends would leave me alone."

I rubbed my temples slightly, but squatted down near the body of a supposed business man of some sort, ignoring Lestrade. My mind wasn't quite working yet this early in the morning too and, combined with the pain pills, it was only working at about 40%. I watched as Sherlock examined the man and scooted back a bit so he could get a better look until he stepped aside. I blinked at that, not expecting him to have figured out something that fast and looked over the man myself, as John did his doctor thing.

"He's been dead about 24 hours. Maybe a bit longer. Did he drown?"

I shook my head and frowned, pointing to bruising on the cheeks.

"No way. He was strangled. Sherlock, have you heard of the Golem?"

"Golem?" Lestrade sounded confused, but Sherlock's eyes widened.

"That's it Dani! Well, that, and that lost Vermeer painting's a fake."

I was confused at the last bit, but John and Lestrade were so lost that they quickly wanted an explanation.

"Wait, wait, wait. What painting? What are you talking about?"

"It's all over the place, haven't you seen the posters? Dutch old master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago. Now it's turned up, worth 30 million pounds."

I scanned what I knew about this case and my mind slowed to a snails pace, giving me little to nothing.

"So the Golem was hired to get rid of him? I'm assuming he knew something about the painting then, Sherlock?"

"Yes. Good work so far Dani, but try to pick up the pace."

I sighed and plopped down on the tarp next to the dead man. I looked over at him and rolled my eyes.

"I'm with you, mate. I need a nap."

"Hold on a minute." John said. "You two are moving to fast! What exactly is going on here? The golem. It's a horror story isn't it? What are you two saying?"

Sherlock turned to John. "Jewish folk story." Then to Lestrade. "A gigantic man made out of clay. It's also the name of an assassin. Dani, could tell you more."

"Gah, Sherlock! My mind's already scrambled. Give me a second."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and searched for any info I could find in my head about the Golem.

"Let's see, uh…real name is Oskar Dzundza. He's one of the most deadliest assassins in the world; rank 5 I think. His trademark style is squeezing the life out of his victims with his bare hands but does it by the face and not by the neck, as most murderers would. Oh, and he's damn good at hiding. Probably the only reason he even got that high of a ranking."

Lestrade scoffed. "Okay. And what rank are you then?"

I tapped my chin, not caring that he was probably joking with me since his reaction could be quite amusing.

"Last time I checked I was 2nd or 3rd. I might actually be the top ranking one at the moment though. I'd have to check it later."

"Wh-What? You can't be serious?! I can have you arrested for that, you know!"

"Ha. It wouldn't last. I'll tell you that much."

I smirked at him, after he turned to John who gave him a shrug and a grimace. He paled a bit, but cleared his throat and turned back to Sherlock.

"S-So this is a hit then? But what does this have to do with that painting? I don't see-"

"You do _see,_ you just don't observe!"

John saw a fight brewing between the two of them and stepped in, while I sat with the corpse a bit upset that Lestrade didn't listen to my explanation before of the connection between the two men.

"Yes, alright, alright, girls. Calm down. Sherlock. Do you wanna take us through it?"

He wasn't pleased about having to explain himself, but did it nonetheless.

"What do we know about this corpse? The killer's not left us with much, just the shirt, the trousers. They're pretty formal, maybe he was going out for the night the trousers are heavy duty, polyester, nasty; same as the shirt, cheap. They're both too big for him, so some kind of standard issue uniform. Dressed for work then. What kind of work? There's a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Tube driver?"

I smacked myself in the face. "Security guard. Jesus, aren't you supposed to be a detective _inspector_? Do a little more inspecting, would ya?"

Lestrade glared at me and I dutifully did the same back at him, being in no mood to deal with idiots today. John quickly intervened.

"Sorry, Greg. Dani's a bit out of sorts today."

"You don't say…Anyway, how could you tell it's a security guard and not a tube driver?"

I rolled my eyes before grinding my temples. "Who shoots a tube driver over a painting? A tube driver wouldn't have any reason to be anywhere near the thing, whereas a security guard would. Gah, these damn pills aren't doing a thing."

I rustled around in my pocket, but remembered that I had left the rest of the pills in the flat and that my cigarettes were in Sherlock's safe keeping. I was angry and bored now, as Sherlock began explaining what he'd discovered; things I had noticed just as he did. So, I went over to Lestrade and snatched the pen out of his pocket.

"Can I borrow this?"

He gave me a look. "What for?"

I smiled innocently and turned towards the ocean. "For this!"

I threw the pen into the ocean, ignoring Lestrade's shocked face, and frowned as the insignificant splash did nothing to ease my boredom. Not only that, but throwing that pen really hurt my wrist.

"What the bloody hell was that for?! That was my only pen!"

I turned towards him with a neutral expression. "Bored. Ah, I need something else. Something that _shatters_."

I looked around, but there was nothing that anyone had that could satisfy my need to break things. I hardly noticed Sherlock walking away, until he tapped my shoulder with an empty beer bottle. I took it and gave him a look as he turned back towards the other two to finish explaining, waving a hand over his shoulder.

"Have fun."

I smirked and threw the bottle at the wall behind us, sighing in satisfaction as the bottle shattered and tuning back in to Sherlock as he spoke.

"Now, why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? Inference, the dead man knew something about it. Something that would stop the owner getting paid 30 million. The picture is a fake."

He turned away with a smug look on his face as John stared with his mouth open.

"Fantastic."

"Splendid." I interjected.

"Meretricious."

"And a Happy New Year."

We all kind of blinked at Lestrade, but John shrugged it off; thinking about the victim.

"Poor sod."

"I'd better get my feelers out for this Golem character." Lestrade said.

I shook my head. "There's no way you'll find him. He's escaped police for years. There's probably only a select few who could find him."

"Who?"

I smiled as Sherlock answered for him. "Why, Dani and I of course."

The two of us walked off, leaving John standing there for a moment before he decided to catch up with us and climb in a cab Sherlock managed to catch. I felt my body starting to shut down during the ride; the pain pills finally working and making me drowsy at the same time. Sherlock seemed to notice this, but didn't say anything while John seemed a bit more concerned.

"Hey. You okay, Dani?"

I nodded, lazily. "Fine. Just drowsy from the pain meds."

He rose a brow. "But they didn't have that side effect. You should be fine."

I sighed and tilted my head back a bit. "I'm like that. Any type of medication, even if it's Advil, makes me drowsy. I have no idea why."

"_Really_? That's odd."

I gave a short nod, allowing my eyes to slide closed just as Sherlock told the cab to stop. I groaned and was about to get out of the cab with him, but he held out a hand.

"No need, Dani. I'll only be a moment."

"If you say so. I'll check up on my end then while you're busy."

He nodded as well and hurried off with John as I sent a mass text to my contacts in the area. Within minutes, I had texts flowing in and I started sorting through them as Sherlock and John joined me. Sherlock leaned over towards me, I having moved to the middle seat between him and John, and stared at my phone as I glance over every text.

"Anything?"

I frowned. "Not yet. I have a few here who have never seen him nor heard of him, but there's a couple who claimed to have spotted him in various areas."

"Where, exactly?"

"I'm working on it. I'm working on it. Just give me a minute."

John leaned closer as well and gave me a confused look.

"How do you even know what that says? Looks like a bunch of nonsense, if you ask me, but I assume it's a code of some sort?"

Briefly nodding, I showed my phone to Sherlock; a map now showing on the screen.

"This narrows it down a bit, but not enough to really help I'm afraid. I'd probably get better results if I had someone under Mycroft's wing. I guess I've gotta go turn another one of his soon."

The cab stopped and Sherlock got out, but he motioned for the two of us to stay put.

"No. I need you, John, to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address."

"Okay, but what about-"

"Dani, I want you to return to the flat and-"

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"_What?_"

He snarled at John, who was pointing at Dani, fast asleep. Sherlock sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in slight exasperation and slight amusement.

"In that case, John, take Dani back first and then do as I said."

John chuckled slightly and closed the door to the cab, switching to sit beside Dani. _You've really gotten to him, haven't you, Dani?_ He thought as the cab drove to Baker Street.

* * *

I woke up with a start due to three things: a nightmare, as expected, pain, and the smell of someone cooking in my kitchen. Immediately noticing that there was the smell of food coming from my kitchen, I knew it wasn't an intruder, per say. Rather, it was most likely John or Mrs. Hudson since I knew for a fact that Sherlock cannot cook; having caught him trying to microwave an egg once before. Unfortunately, the sound of things being thrown around informed me otherwise.

I got up with a groan and wandered towards the destruction zone. Sure enough, Sherlock stood in my kitchen with a scowl on his face and take-out sitting on the table. I leaned up against the doorframe, holding back a snicker as he opened cupboard after cupboard only to find them all empty.

"If you're looking for a cup, bowl, or plate, you're out of luck."

He turned around and, instead of the frown he had on earlier, a curious look crossed his face.

"Ah, that's right. You throw things when you get bored or upset. Might I suggest buying plastic tableware next time?"

"Hm." I tapped my chin with a finger. "I never thought of that. It'd probably save me quite a bit of money, but I _love_ the sound of glass shattering."

He gave a small smirk and shook his head before sitting down on a stool.

"I guess we won't be having drinks then?"

I rose a brow. "Now, who said anything about that?"

I walked back into the main room and dug through my pack until I found what I wanted. Returning to the kitchen, I smirked and set down two small ceramic bowls. Sherlock gave them an odd look, before pick one up and inspecting it as I poured some tea into the other.

"It's a bowl." He finally said.

"No. It's a Japanese sake cup. _Hence_, still a cup. So you _can_ drink out of it. Now what, might I say, is so special about today that you'd bring me food?"

He poured his own tea and took a sip with a smirk. "What? I can't bring you food?"

My eyes widened. "H-hey now. Food is always welcome in my books."

He gave a short chuckle and set down his cup. "Mrs. Hudson asked me to bring it up to you because she was worried when John had to carry you back to your flat. _I_ am simply here to tell you my findings, as it is nice to have someone more…_animate_ to talk to than my skull."

I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant after having only Rüde to talk to for years. Reaching over, I grabbed a take out box and clapped my hands into a steeple position in front of me.

"Itadakimasu."

Sherlock gave me an odd look, but I ignored him and snapped apart my chopsticks before chowing down, grateful for the meal.

"What was that?"

I sighed. "I visited Japan for some time and they did this before meals. It became a habit. It's like saying grace, I suppose."

He hummed in thought and I just ate my food in comfortable silence for a while (since Sherlock doesn't eat during cases) until Sherlock got up. I picked up any trash and threw it out, before grabbing a coat and heading after him; taking a couple pain killers on the way and being sure to actually _take_ the bottle with me this time.

Outside, John had just pulled up and Sherlock went over to him as I followed behind. They spoke very briefly, short enough that I didn't catch any of it before Sherlock went over to a woman who was calling out for spare change. I watched as he was given a slip of paper and concluded that this was his informant. _Huh. Homeless network…Why didn't I think of that?_

"Fortunately, I haven't been idle. Come on, Dani."

I climbed in the cab between him and John. It was quiet, but I was slowly getting bored with nothing to talk about. So, I struck up conversation with John.

"So…What'd you find?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, nothing much. The only thing I got was that he was an amateur astronomer…How was your nap?"

"Same as always…Full of memories."

Things grew quiet again as John regretted bringing up that topic and I thought over what John said. _Amateur astronomer? What would that have to do with-Oh! I see. There's no way a simple security guard would know about art (seeing how John didn't mention that) so perhaps that's how he know the painting was a fake? Hm, but the astronomy was never my best subject. Better look some stuff up while I have time._ I pulled out my phone and searched for anything star related.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock's voice broke through my thoughts as he snatched my phone away and rose a brow.

"You're searching up 'well known astronomy facts'?"

I scratched my nose in slight embarrassment.

"It…It might come in handy."

John laughed. "What? You didn't know about the Earth going 'round the sun either?"

I turned to him with a confused look and he put his head in his hands.

"Good God. You can't be serious."

Sherlock chuckled a little. "Seems I'm not the _only _one who you would consider 'ignorant' John."

I sighed. "I'm not ignorant. I just never really cared before. It's like politics to me. You don't really care unless you're affected personally."

John gave me a disbelieving look while Sherlock smirked out the window just as the cabbie stopped in a darker area. We got out and John seemed a bit uncomfortable, but I felt perfectly at home. Dark alleyways were my playground no matter which country I was in.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

I smiled. "Sure is."

"I meant the stars."

I blinked. "Oh…Well-" Glancing up at the stars, I stared at the scene I used to see every night. "I guess they're okay too. You should see the stars in China. Just over the Yangtze River Valley. Now _that's_ beautiful."

"Right, but I thought you two didn't care about-"

"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate it. I'm sure the same goes for Dani as well."

I nodded as we went under the Vauxhall Arches, watching the shadows in the corners as they watched the newcomers. Their gazes reminded me of countless memories from the war and my other travels.

"Homeless network. Really is indispensable."

"Homeless network?"

"Hm." I hummed in thought. "I really should pick up some connections here. Could be helpful."

"That you should. They're my eyes and ears all over the city."

"Oh that's…clever." John didn't sound convinced. "So you scratch their backs and-"

"Yes. Then I disinfect myself."

I snickered a bit as Sherlock pulled out a couple of flashlights and handed one to John. He turned to give me one as well, but I declined.

"No need. _This_-" I gestured to the darkened caverns. "-is practically home to me."

John gave me a look. "_This?_" He said, a bit disgusted.

"The _shadows_, John. I'm going up ahead."

I gave a wave and started walking, surprising John, and even Sherlock, when I practically disappeared. I snuck around, easily avoiding Sherlock and John's flashlight beams and managed to converge into one of the groups of homeless men. They were chattering away in quiet whispers, not really paying attention to _who_ was speaking, but listening and answering all the same. So why not cut in?

"I hear there's a new guy 'round here. What'cha guys think 'bout 'im?" I said with an accent.

"There's a lot o' new guys 'round here. Which one ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Hm…big guy. Huge, like a giant."

They all thought about it for a moment, mumbling to each other for more information before finally one guy spoke out.

"I know who ya talkin' 'bout. He stays just o'er there." The man pointed towards the end of one of the tunnels. "You best stay away from 'im though. Man likes ta keep to 'imself, but he could take down an elephant."

The man finished, but I was already heading down that tunnel, spotting the shadow reflecting in a dim light on the adjacent wall.

"_Sherlock_!"

"_Come on."_

I popped up behind Sherlock and John; the former noticing fairly quickly, but the later being completely clueless.

"_What's he doing sleeping rough?_"

"_He's a giant, John. He's gotta hide somewhere where people won't talk about him. Although, that didn't quite work out for him this time._"

John jumped and clutched his chest, muttering curses.

"_Damn it, Dani. Did you really have to-Oh shit._"

"_What?_"

I rolled my eyes and reached into my coat, pulling out two guns.

"_You prefer a beretta or a glock?_"

His eyes widened. "_Where did you-Oh, nevermind._"

Sherlock pulled a gun out of his pocket, as I replaced one of mine, and handed it to John.

"_Don't mention it._"

Just then, the Golem must have noticed our presence and hurried down the tunnel. We followed, running full speed despite my previous injuries. The man climbed into a car and I aimed my gun, only to put it down. _The noise would attract unwanted attention and I forgot my silencer at home. Oh darn._ Releasing a sigh, I hid my weapon as Sherlock threw a fit.

"No, no, no, no, no! It'll take us _weeks_ to find him again."

"Or not." _Oh? _

"You know where he's going? Do tell John. Please, share with the class."

He gave me a half-hearted glare as I smirked. "I told you. Someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There can't be that many Professor Cairns in the book. Come on."

With that, he hurried off and Sherlock seemed…surprised at missing that connection, hurrying after him. I too, ran after them and climbed in the cab as adrenaline pumped through my veins at the feeling of a chase. I knew it wouldn't last, but I might as well enjoy it for now before all the pain returns.

By the time we reached the amphitheatre, I could hear the scrambling of some kind of tape and worried that we may be too late. Sherlock, John and I hurried out and Sherlock quickly gained the killer's attention.

"Golem!"

The man seemed to pause for a moment, which was just the chance I needed to start heading in his direction without the others realizing. Twisting and turning through the isles, I vaguely heard the 'thud' of a body hitting the ground and the projector immediately went out. I was fine with that, but when they started to flash from pitch black to color, I lost track of my target.

"Who are you working for, Dzundza?!"

I heard Sherlock shout over all the noise, just as I spotted the man coming up behind him. The moment I saw the Golem's hands reaching for Sherlock, I shouted, hoping to get John's attention since he was closer.

"Sherlock!"

John was there in seconds, with his gun drawn, hesitating to shoot the man. Me, I knew better. Hesitating in any of my previous situations would've meant death and now was not the time to be soft hearted towards a top criminal. _Looks like I have no choice._

* * *

The projection skipped a bit and the Golem spun Sherlock around, easily knocking the gun away from John and leaving him hit the floor, his vision dazed while the Golem attacked John before throwing him, too, to the ground. Sherlock was prepared to get up once again to fight, but something stopped him. Standing there, in plain sight, was Dani. _I have to stop her._

"D-Dani! Dani don't! He's-"

Her eyes went towards him as he struggled to get up and something about them almost…_frightened_ him. Those weren't the blue-green eyes he saw earlier full of laughter, embarrassment, and intelligence. These eyes. They were that of a cold-blooded killer.

The lights flashed again and the Golem appeared behind her, but before Sherlock could even get a word out, Dani had already disappeared. Sherlock and the Golem began scanning the area for any sign of where she had gone, just as her vibrant eyes shone from behind the giant. Something in her hand flashed and a feral smirked grew on her face as the Golem turned around and she sped towards him.

Whatever was in her hand was thrown upward, streaking the light just so that it blinded the Golem temporarily. The man covered his face, trying to keep track of the falling object and his attacker. Unfortunately, he couldn't dodge both and yelled when Dani shoved a blade in his upper arm. He was lucky though, the attack was meant to hit between the ribs and would have surely punctured a lung.

"Raaaaaahhh!"

Dani went to pull the blade from his arm, but the man had another idea and grabbed her arm. With a smirk, he pushed her to the ground and began strangling her with his good arm around her throat, only to pause when he saw the look in her eyes. She had already planned for this.

"Sorry Golem…" She gasped out. "You may be fifth…in the ranks, but I'm…number one."

Her feral smirk returned as she caught the falling blade from before and swung it around to stab him in the throat when a voice shouted at her.

"Dani!"

Shots were fired off and the Golem saw his chance, hurrying out of the amphitheatre before he could be hit by either attack. Dani was furious. She had lost her kill. _Her kill._ She rose from her place on the ground, allowing the adrenaline to leave her body only for anger, frustration, and pain to take it's place.

"I had him." She mumbled. "I freakin' had him, John!"

She grabbed his coat and practically growled at the man, but he remained oddly calm.

"Dani."

She ignored him, still clutching his coat with shaking fists.

"Dani. No more. Please." He pulled her close and just wrapped his arms around her shaking form, causing her to stiffen. "No more bloodshed."

Her shaking suddenly stopped and she dropped her arms.

"I'm…sorry…"

Meanwhile, Sherlock was left to watch the scene in confusion as something uncomfortable stirred within him. _I don't get it. I've never seen her like this. Why is she upset? And before, when she attacked the Golem…I…I don't know who the real Dani is. Was she the one John and I knew? Or the one who attacked the Golem? Or the one here in front of me, almost in tears?…Everything I thought about her just seems _wrong_. I don't like this._

"Come on. We're running out of time."

And with that, he walked out, leaving them to follow in his wake.

* * *

I felt stupid for letting my emotions take control of me like that and stayed silent for the rest of the trip to the museum. We all just kind of stood around while Sherlock typed on his phone and I typed on mine, still looking up star facts; starting with the year the painting was made and onward.

"It's a fake. It has to be."

The woman who worked that area stepped forward with a frown. "That painting has been subjected to every test known to science."

"That's a very good fake then." Sherlock said angrily. "You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?"

The woman looked away with a slightly disgusted look and turned towards Lestrade.

"Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself-"

She was interrupted by the ringing of a phone and Sherlock answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

"The painting is a fake!" Silence answered him. "It's a fake, that's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed."

There was more silence and I sighed. "You seriously want us to prove this?"

Sherlock glared in my direction and continued. "The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I've figured it out. It's a fake, that's the answer, that's why they were killed."

As the silence continued, Sherlock's face went through a series of changes that proved how fed up he was with the bomber.

"Okay, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?!"

A voice finally spoke up from the phone and my eyes widened. "Ten."

_It was a kid. A damn bloody kid! There's no way in hell Sherlock is doing this alone._ Sherlock spun around to look at the painting and I hurried my search. I tried everything from stars during the 1600s to stars in the 21st century. Nothing seemed to be popping out at me and the voices of Lestrade and John were beginning to bother me.

"It's a kid. Oh God, it's a kid!"

"What did he say?"

"Time." Sherlock murmured. "It's a countdown, he's giving me time."

"Jesus." John gasped.

"It's a fake but how can I prove it? How? How?"

"Eight." The child's voice echoed.

"This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me!"

I ignored Sherlock's yelling at the woman when I came upon something. I opened my mouth, but Sherlock turned towards me and glared again.

"No. Shut up. Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out."

I snapped my mouth shut with a click and scowled. I had met this bomber guy and he was just as interest in me as he was in Sherlock. Surely, the guy wouldn't care if I were to help Sherlock out.

"Sherlock, I-"

"God! Shut up, Dani!"

I flinched at his commanding tone, but just glared at the back of his head before handing my phone to John as I headed towards the exit.

"Give this to the idiot when he decides to come back down to Earth. I'm going home."

"W-Wha-Dani!"

I ignored him and made my way out of the museum in a huff, ignoring the pain I was in. I was not in a good mood to deal with him after my little breakdown earlier and things only seemed to be getting worse. With the adrenaline rush, the pain, the lack of nicotine, and everything that's happened so far, I was two seconds away from giving in to my cravings. I could already feel my hands shaking and my heart beating faster at the thought. I grit my teeth and went to pull out my phone only to remember I'd left it for Sherlock. With a muttered curse, I went to hail a cab only for an odd smelling cloth to cover my mouth and nose. My mind went blurry as I was dragged into a waiting car, and the last thing I heard was a familiar voice.

"I told you 'no' was not an option."


End file.
